


Scaretalia

by XOs



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Comedy, Confinement, Funny, Gen, Horror, Humour, Spooky, Tension, Thriller
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-14 12:28:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 46,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16492619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XOs/pseuds/XOs
Summary: Seven of the eight main nations receive a shock when an unexpected letter from Russia arrives on their doorsteps promising a wonderful party. The nations can't help but feel skeptical, given Russia's somewhat intimidating nature. Are the party's intentions innocent, or does a darker, more dangerous message hide in between the lines?





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This feels really weird to be posting, given that I wrote it over 3 years ago, but I've finally made the jump of moving my FanFiction.net content to AO3. This is something that I'll probably be doing over the next few days, so if you're waiting for an update on a different fic, then I apologise profoundly. I don't have a lot of writing time until Monday 12th, so I'm just transferring already written works.

_Dear Nations,_

_First of all, I am writing this letter only out of the pure goodness of my heart. Secondly, the point I would like to make is that I'm having a part this weekend and am exclusively inviting you, alongside some others. It's just for fun, and I have a lot of fun activities planned for the fun entertainment of my guests. I'm writing fun too much, but I'm actually quite nervous writing to you, as you might already imagine... It would be better if you didn't decline, and I advise you to accept, otherwise I will find you and request the reason you couldn't come to my party._

_It's later today- after lunch._

_Don't condemn,_

_Russia_

* * *

England laid the letter in front of him and pondered the strange circumstances, as well as the mood swing halfway through the letter. He was sitting in his lounge, with tea and afternoon scones, peacefully enjoying the solitude that could never be present with either America or France within the vicinity. Truly, the pair of them could make a remarkable amount of noise. He drummed his fingers on the table and checked the letter once again, just to make sure he was seeing things clearly. It really was from Russia (unless someone else had written the letter, for which case, England had no idea what Russia's handwriting was like. They weren't close and, to be frank, England didn't particularly like the guy, either).

Just in that moment, the phone started to ring. England drew in a deep breath, his peace and quiet further disturbed. Stand abruptly, he crossed the room and deftly answered it wearily, wondering if it was Russia checking to ensure he'd received the letter.

"Hello?"

"Hey, England," America boomed down the line. He had to hold the phone at arm's length for a moment whilst his English speaking ally rattled on for a moment, laughing and speaking at impossibly high decibels, as if he were trying to break man's conception of the sonic boom.

"Are you done?" he checked, once his ears had stopped ringing.

America laughed harshly and he winced. "Such a gloomy sense of humour! Anyway, I actually wanted to check if you got invited to some weird exclusive party."

"If you mean  _Russia's_ exclusive party, then the answer is 'yes'," England frowned. "Why do you sound so happy about it? Is it some sort of trick you've set up in a crude attempt to embarrass me?"

"No, I got one as well, dude."

"What?" for a moment, he wasn't sure if he'd heard him correctly. " _You_ got a letter to  _Russia's_ party?"

"Hey, don't sound so surprised that I get invited to cool things, too," America said down the line. "It's an  _exclusive_ party. That means-"

"I  _know_ what  _exclusive_ means," England snapped. "I'm surprised he invited you, not because you're undeserving of it-"  _Although, maybe you are_ , his thoughts sneered. "-but more because I could've sworn the par of you  _despise one another_."

England waited for a moment as a silence ensued from the other end of the line. He wondered briefly if the wanker down the other end had gotten distracted and left whilst he had been in mid-sentence. He even contemplated hanging up, there and then, but a sudden intake of breath on the other side reassured him that America was still there and had been the entire time.

"You're right!" he exclaimed, seemingly panicked. "I bet this  _is_ a trick. I bet you he's planning on killing everyone he invites. Or maybe he was trying to lure me in!"

"Why would he invite me, then?" England sighed impatiently and rubbed his temples.

"Because..." America trailed off, for once at a loss for words.

"Hello?" England prompted when the silence stretched for too long. He had a phone bill to maintain.

"Are you going to go?" America stressed. "I'm not sure I want to go now, right? I was convinced about going before, but now I'm not sure at all and I don't want to be the only one to turn up. What if he really wants to kill us? I think, if we do go, we should totally consider some kind of military defence as a backup, like a couple fighter jets and a tank."

"If we bring  _anything_ that suggests violence, we won't be allowed into the country," England said. "And by anything, I mean a pin badge."

"We need to think of  _something_ ," America pleaded. "I can't think of anything apart from guns and missiles at the moment, but maybe you had something better in mind since you have that tone in your voice?"

"What tone?" England scowled.

"Hmm?" America suddenly sounded like an innocent little boy. "I think you're breaking up on me."

" _Never mind_ ," England snapped. "I'm thinking we should check who else received the letters. I doubt it's just us, but you never really know."

"You can call France, then," America shouted down the line. "I'll start with China."

Before England could protest, the American had long hung up. He stood beside his old fashioned wall phone, its curling wire held in one hand, idly twisted around his fingers. England had always kept a preference for dated assets. Scowling, he slammed his delicate phone back into its holder, tapping his chin. He didn't really want to call France, for obvious reasons, but he knew America wouldn't, and being left out might persuade France to go to the effort of visiting him, which was the last thing England wanted. With a groan that could encompass every rainy day in the UK between 1066 and the present, England lifted the phone once more, dialing in a certain, dreaded number. His fingers were slow and cold, like a corpse's, as he was hesitant to be any more involved than necessary with France. He needed to tell himself that it was important, and that it could be possible that Russia had singled out both he and America, for reasons he preferred not to dwell on.

He called the number and waited, like an anxious schoolgirl waiting for her crush to pick up the phone, although this situation was completely different, as he was not a schoolgirl and this call was far from romantic.

"Salut!" someone who was clearly France chimed from the other end, a thick French accent curling into his words.

"Hello, France," England kept his tone curt. "I need to speak with you."

"Avec moi?" he sounded surprised. "What, in person? Or a private, yet intimate, call over the phone here and now? I've never practiced this kind of phone call, but if you've suddenly decided to take our relationship down this road, I'm not one to-"

"No, you French git," England huffed, flustered.  _No romantic inclinations._ "I wanted to know if you've been invited to any recent parties?"

"I'm invited to a lot of parties," France replied vaguely.

England ground his teeth in silent frustration. "Are any of them Russia's party, by any chance?"

"They might be."

"Just give me a straight answer, Frog- this is important," he outburst, and then pressed his fingers into his temples, kneading his head in frustration.

"D'accord,  _oui_ ," England could hear France's eye roll through his tone alone, and disliked that a lot. "I was invited to Russia's party, or something like that. I'm not going, even though there's an implied threat at the end. I only attend fashionable parties."

"You're not even curious as to what he wants?" England was surprised. Usually, France was involved with a myriad of strange occurrences.

"Maybe a  _little_ , but I'm not sure it's worth it," France admitted. "Everyone seems to forget that Russia has a truly dangerous side to him. Besides, it's nearly Halloween and I'm taking this sudden need to throw a party has something to do with  _that_. I'm personally take that as a bad omen, by the way. I'm surprised that  _you're_ not."

"What's  _that_ supposed to mean?" he glared at the phone.

"What I mean is, I thought you had a love for all the supernatural things?" France replied. "Anyway, I assume you've been invited, since you know about it. Do you know any other unattractive people who may have been?"

"You for a start," England sneered. "America, too. He's checking with China."

" _What_?" France's voice was rough with genuine surprise.

"I know," England continued. "That's why we're worried about this whole thing. I was under the impression that Russia  _despised_ America and vice versa. Correct me if I'm mistaken..."

"Tu n'es pas," France muttered. "Perhaps I may come? This change of circumstances has enticed me. It's always nice to know when you have more allies than enemies."

"I've got an idea," England said. "How about everyone we discover is attending shall come to my place and we all discuss tactics?"

"Does it have to be  _your_ house?" France audibly pouted. "I would much rather host in the splendour of my country rather than squat in your damp little hovel."

"Shut up, you git," England barked. "My idea, my place. Thinking of the people Russia may have contacted, I think the former members of the Axis Powers would be worth contacting. Maybe Poland, but that's a form of stress I'm not sure I want to deal with today. If you call Italy, I can call Japan and get America to contact Germany, as well as send China on his way here. How does that sound?"

"You don't think anyone else would be invited?" France asked.

"Something tells me that we won't have to go beyond the names we've already mentioned," England sighed. "I don't know what it is, but there's something about the eight of us that just seems to... I don't know. Stand out? Yes, stand out."

"I'm not sure I understand your meaning," France sounded somber.

"You wouldn't," England shook his head. "I'll just get around to what I was meant to do, and you do your part. Sooner or later, we'll be able to see what everyone else thinks about this situation."

'Sooner or later' arrived. Without consulting him, it seemed America had already decided that, if a meeting was to be held (which, in his opinion, it  _definitely_ had to be), it would be held at England's home. Upon hearing that everything would be his responsibility, England had ensured his guests would arrive to a hot cup of tea and scones supplied with fluffy white cream and succulent raspberry jam, their own little plates framed with floral decorations and a knife to spread their scones with the sweet treats he had on offer.

The first to arrive was, naturally, Germany, who stoically kept to rigid time scales. The second was France, purely so he had more time to criticise England's interior design. However, throughout the duration of time it took for everyone to arrive, not a single one of England's guests had touched his scones. It was America who arrived last, so he had to make sure his presence was known.

"Hey, everybody!" America bellowed. "Where's Italy, my dudes?"

"Bathroom," Germany muttered irritably.

"He's been there a while," Japan added. "As in, the entire time."

"How come you're the  _last one here_?" England demanded, sending a cold glare in America's direction.

"It's called being fashionably late," he saluted in response. "Besides, I had a long way to travel."

"No excuse!" China barked.

"It's time for the meeting to commence, instead of discussing my somewhat questionable arrival habits!" America allowed the words to roll over his head, ignored and forgotten.

"Where are you hiding them?" England asked, grinding his teeth.

"H-hiding?" America appeared uneasy. "I can't say I know what you're talking about."

"You know," England pressed. "The grenades. The guns. The missiles. Anything. Where are they?"

"I haven't got anything like that," America protested in horror.

"How about you allow me to take your jacket, then?" England sneered, rising.

"My jacket?" America laughed at him. "No."

"Why not?"

"Because..."

"Because there's a grenade in your pocket?"

"What? No."

"I know you hate Russia. Let me hang up your coat."

"You're getting this all wrong."

"I insist. What kind of a gentleman would I be if I didn't hang up your coat?"

"Fine," America snapped, whipping a weapon from his pocket- a grenade, to be precise. "I had to! Russia can't be trusted. Ever. He's rounding us all up so he can slaughter us one by one in his own home!"

"Is America scared, by any chance?" France teased.

"Heck, no!" America protested, setting the grenade aside on the table. "I just don't think we should act brashly."

"And bringing a grenade wasn't 'brash'?" England gawked, eyeing the weapon of mass destruction carefully as it sat alongside the dainty plate of scones.

"That's not brash," America shrugged nonchalantly. "That's  _pragmatism_. Aren't you always one to support arriving prepared?"

"Arriving prepared and carrying threatening weapons around with you are two completely different things," England scoffed. "I told you that if you did so much as bring a safety pin into Russia's house, he will accuse you of attempting to kill him."

"A safety pin?" China cast England a scathing glance. "Really, aru?"

"Are we talking about Russia's letter?" Italy beamed, striding into the room with his usual cheerfulness. "I actually wrote back. I didn't realise you'd all be going as well!"

"Hold on just a moment," England looked alarmed at Italy, standing in the doorway with his usual dumb expression and spaced out stance. "You  _replied_? What did you say?"

"Well, something along the lines of 'I would be really happy to go to your party, Russia', and then I did a special signature of a smiley face since he was being so nice!" Italy explained. "I was hardly going to say 'no'. If I declined, that would just give Russia the excuse to come find me and probably scare me like he usually does."

"Did you not even think about what you could be going into?" Germany slapped a palm of disdain against his forehead.

"I feel as if we shouldn't let Italy go alone," France gave the Italian and pitying look.

"Did no one else reply?" Italy's smile vanished.

"It wasn't compulsory to reply," England folded his arms moodily. "The letter implies that it was compulsory to attend. I personally think we should all go, just to avoid conflict. I understand that actually entering enemy grounds is risky as it is, but I think we would only be causing unnecessary grief if all of us, save Italy, didn't turn up. He's holding this party for a reason, without a doubt, but I think the only way we'll really be able to find out what's happening is if we attend and see for ourselves."

"Strength in numbers, they say!" Italy chimed from the doorway.

"Always full of magnificent ideas," France chuckled from the sofa. "Well, if Angleterre is going, I most certainly am."

" _I_ have no choice," Germany sighed. "If I leave Italy alone, he will either offend Russia by running out screaming, or he'll do something incomprehensibly stupid, such as sending the letter  _before_ checking with the rest of us..."

"If Italy, Germany and England are planning to attend, I may as well," Japan added in.

"I have a question," China scowled, raising his hand.

"Go on," England frowned.

"What are my chances of being kidnapped, tortured, killed, held hostage, assaulted, harassed, humiliated, imprisoned or forced into slavery?" he fired.

"Um, I can't say I-"

"Sixty-three per cent!" America roared. "But if you escape unscathed, you'll be honoured as a hero!"

"Is there a monetary benefit?" China asked England.

"If it's a party, I suppose there's free food?" he shrugged.

"Free food or death, aru?" China puffed out his cheeks. "The choice seems a little obvious..."

"Think of it as this: if the rest of us go and are horribly murdered by Russia in his hovel, you'll be the only one who  _didn't_ go to his party," America smiled triumphantly. "If Italy's fears are correct, he'll come after you and there won't be anyone left to support you. Therefore, if Russia takes you down, the world is at his-"

"Stop!  _Stop_!" China waved his hands around. "I don't want to hear anymore, aru. Fine. I'll accept with the benefit of free food and certified safety from the rest of you, but I expect some sort of further reward if we make it out of there alive."

"It's a deal," America shot him a thumbs up.

"When is this party?" Germany asked.

"We're supposed to be there after lunch, or 'later today', as he's said," England explained, referring to the letter. "I guess that means something along the lines of this afternoon, which ranges between two and five."

"I say we arrive at three thirty," Japan said. "It's a good middle."

"What time is it now?" Italy asked.

"Three thirty," England said, checking the clock ticking steadily on the wall.

"Alright, let's go!" America cheered, charging towards the door with renewed energy, not unlike a bull seeing red.

"America!" England called after him, folding his arms.

"Yes?" America peered hesitantly back into the room.

"Leave the bloody grenade."

"Fine," he groaned, placing the weapon on England's mantelpiece, where it now belonged. "But don't blame me if we arrive and he has the place decked with machine guns."

"If he does that, we don't go inside," Germany pointed out, ever the practical one.

England headed towards the front door, making sure he was the last out, just as a backup to ensure America didn't try to sneak the grenade out with him one last time. He sighed as he viewed his beloved house, dismayed that he was being dragged on a crazed adventure he would've preferred to avoid.

 _I wonder why nobody touched the scones I prepared_? he wondered as he closed the door and followed after everyone else. The day had started so perfectly, only to now decline towards what had to be the most dreaded party he had ever attended...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of this is pretty much the same as the previous one, except with a few modifications, because I'm nit-picky like that. It's so weird to see how different my writing was, as this is the first fic I ever posted online.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might also add that I haven't written anything for Hetalia in such a long time, even though I've got loads of really awesome ideas in those folders of mine, as well as current ideas that I really need to continue. I've been doing a lot of BNHA, but it's so wonderful how flexible one can make the Hetalia universe, given that there's no story.

**Although it had never been discussed, an overall decision to use their own planes seemed to have settled amongst everyone.** America didn't want to use anyone else's plane because he believed his own superior, and England couldn't help but feel the same way about his own, as well as a reluctance to allow anyone else onto his plane. China prepared his own handicraft because it was cheap and mass produced, therefore economically efficient, and Japan had been adamant not to share any vehicle of any kind with Italy, for reasons he didn't seem keen to explain. France had wanted a plane ride with England, but had been bluntly and brutally refused. Italy and Germany seemed to be the only ones willing to share a plane to Russia's house, and England overheard the reason was because Germany didn't want Italy bailing and flying back to his home at the very last minute. Overall, it was complicated, the results weren't exactly environmentally friendly, and England had been horrified to discover the sheer amounts of weapons hidden in America's plane. After they'd wasted precious time dealing with all of those, it was already quarter past four. Although there had never been a specific time mentioned, England felt late.

England always forgot how temperatures in Russia were generally below freezing and a good cause for miserable attitudes. If you could complain about English weather, Russian weather had to be an apocalyptic topic.

The first issue was landing one's plane. There was so much snow that there appeared to be no actual place to physically land. He ended up following Germany, who managed to steer towards drier areas that weren't covered dangerously in ice.

The second issue was definitely the freezing temperatures. When one did the best thing within their power to avoid another person, as England did with Russia, it was easy to forget what it was like to be with them or they area they lived in. As soon as he stepped beyond the warm protection of his plane, he was blasted with the freezing tendrils of cold air that wrapped their icy fingers around him, sinking into his skin, his hair and in between the layers of his clothes. He wrapped his arms around himself, feeling the blood rise to his cheeks and seeing the clouds of warm air that puffed before him every time he exhaled. Not far from where he stood, he saw Italy tumble out of Germany's plane, looking aghast and pale.

"It's freezing here!" he exclaimed, rubbing his shoulders with his teeth chattering.

"I knew it!" America whispered loudly as he approached. "He's going to freeze us to death!"

"That sounds terrible!" someone gasped from behind and England winced. "Who would do such a thing?"

"Oh, you know-" America began, but stopped dead halfway through his words, eyes widening as he stared briefly into space.

The pair of them turned around with fake, plastered smiles and saw Russia beaming at them. He probably didn't feel the cold in the slightest. England would do almost- yes,  _almost_ \- anything to have a thick winter coat like Russia's, as well as the thick muffler around his face and neck, accompanied with gloves that appeared unaffected in the slightest by the snow. He even wore boots that looked impenetrable.

"Jack Frost," America said emphatically. "That guy. He's really...  _really_..." He glanced at England, who shrugged. "He's, um..."

Russia tilted his head to one side, still smiling, eyes closed in that over-friendly 'I actually despise the ground you're walking on, but I pretend to be nice because I enjoy seeing your discomfort' way.

"Cold," America finished flatly and an awkward silence ensued, save the high pitched complaints from Italy in the background.

England dared to glance at America, just to see what he was doing, but the other had his eyes completely trained on Russia, who stood completely still, just smiling. Was it just England who felt incredibly tense?

"Good," Russia finally said, clasping his hands together, just as England was about to start discussing the weather. "For a moment, I thought you meant!"

" _What_?" America laughed loudly and the vast landscape sorrowfully absorbed the sounds, his laughter bouncing off of the trees in a terrible echo that made it seem like there were several Americas. "I would  _never_ insult someone inside their own home."

"You would insult them outside though, da?" Russia nodded.

"Wait, no... I mean..."

"I was only kidding!" Russia chuckled and looked past him. "Hello, Germany! Italy!"

"Hallo," Germany said bluntly, trudging through the snow. Colour had risen to his usually porcelain cheeks, but he showed no indication of being affected, whereas Italy, trailing miserably behind him, was shaking like a leaf. Whether it was the cold or fear of Russia, however, England couldn't say.

"Welcome," Russia said politely as Japan and China neared. "Where is France?"

Blankly, they all looked around. There was no sign of the Frenchman, although England was sure he'd seen his plane on the way there... However, there was no mysteriously irritating laughter echoing around the empty wasteland, and there was no ridiculously blatant blue cloak in sight.

"I could've sworn..." America frowned, looking around and squinting through the cold.

"Maybe he changed his mind?" Italy shivered. "Maybe he knew how cold it was and decided he'd rather not freeze his-"

"It's not that cold," Russia laughed. "He crashed his plane, perhaps."

All heads jerked towards his direction, but he had already raised his head to the sky to point upwards, where a plane was circling in the air, still attempting to find a place to land. They watched as it awkwardly made its way down, landing in a distant area, behind and beyond what looked like a thick, dense forest.

"He'll be a while," Russia commented, still smiling. "I think I'll send Lithuania to bring him indoors, in case of bears. In the meantime, we should go indoors. Fortunately, I've had plenty of time to wait for your arrival, and I already have everything ready."

"Can I just ask what this party is in aid of, aru?" China asked. "It just seems so sudden."

Russia stopped in his tracks, Italy walked into him, and turned to the group. "Did someone say anything?"

Although there was no direct threat, an eerie silence followed suit, and China didn't press the matter further. They were buffeted by cruel winds along the way. Halfway across, England stopped feeling his toes, which worried him, but he was reluctant to express disdain of any kind. Finally, they reached Russia's house, a fortress surrounded by a vast world of snow and dense forest in the distance. England had to marvel at the fact that he had never actually been here before.

He noticed Russia's strange behaviour once they arrived. As they neared, he saw him glancing from side to side, as if expecting something, but when he followed his gaze, there was nothing to be seen. Also, just as they reached the front door, he displayed the slightest of hesitations before pushing the door open, his movements terse, before flinging the door open after a moment's awkward silence.

Russia's house was surprisingly warm. It had the same cozy feeling that England would expect from his own home, when he returned from a particularly rainy winter's day. He was half expecting a warm cup of tea and some afternoon cakes to be placed before him, maybe a hot shower or bath to soak in to wash away the awful chills; however, he wasn't home. They all wandered inside, glancing at the walls, the ceiling, the floor, as if expecting them to be lined with blades, shotguns, weapons of mass torture, spears, or even the bloodied heads of Russia's previous victims. It was actually a beautiful, well-kept house. The curtains were drawn across the windows, but England was sure they were floor to ceiling. He didn't want to marvel at Russia's house, so instead he admired it silently. It seemed everybody else had the same opinion, because they were all looking around in astonished wonder, but no one dared say a thing.

"Hello, Mr Russia," three voices chimed and everyone turned their heads towards Lithuania, Estonia and Latvia, standing in a line, their hands behind their backs, quaking with fear at the very sight of Russia.

"Oh, hello," he said pleasantly. "Lithuania, France is still outside. Perhaps you should go find him, da? He should be just beyond the forest."

"The f-forest?" Lithuania's eyes bugged out. "O-of course. Yes. I'll find him."

He hurried off, without waiting for another word to be said, the door closing right at his heels. The door closing, for some reason, felt like the barred gate of a prison cell sliding shut. Italy was eyeing the door up, half hiding behind Germany, still shaking in his boots.

"Estonia, make us all drinks," Russia ordered. "I'll be having tea. What do our guests wants?"

He glanced over his shoulder at everyone.

"I'll have the same as you," Italy blurted out.

"We'll all have tea," Germany added, gesturing to the entire party.

"Do you have  _coffee_?" America challenged, folding his arms and scrutinising Russia.

"Nope!" Russia laughed. "Tough luck! Looks like we're  _all_ having tea."

Estonia scurried off with a nod of terror, disappearing into the depths of the house. The last to stand there was Latvia, his brow furrowed.

"What am  _I_ meant to do?" he pointed to himself.

Russia looked at him with a blank expression. "Check the food, obviously."

"O-of course," Latvia wilted, hurrying off in the same direction as Estonia.

"Follow me," Russia gestured, and they made a silent procession through the house.

The blizzard outside looked lethal. England could only feel grateful that it wasn't him outside there. The way they walked hollowly down the hallways made England feel like he was participating in a funeral walk. America opened his mouth to say something, but England nudged him, assuming it was something Russia wouldn't want to hear. Now wasn't the time to be annoying the host. They were brought to a lounge that looked like your ordinary, everyday lounge. Once more, there were no lethal weapons within sight and, if this had been England's house, he should've enjoyed dusky afternoons sitting on the sofa, an alcoholic beverage within reaching distance and a newspaper, as well as the view just a glance away. If there was one thing had to credit, it was that the treeline in the distance with the slowly lowering sun would probably look fantastic during sunrise and sunset.

"I would just like to say thank you for all coming to my party," Russia said, once again smiling. "I hope France makes it. I think he will. Right now, though, I have to go and get something. This room will be where we're staying for most of the party. Did I mention you're all staying over?"

"W-what?" Italy's head jerked towards the Russian nation, standing in the doorway, poised to leave. "As in,  _overnight_?"

"That is essentially what 'staying over' means, I believe," Russia tapped his chin and chuckled. "I must have forgotten to mention that. Silly me! I'll make sure you're all provided for. However, stay in this room right for now, da?"

He left the room abruptly, swinging the door shut behind him. There was a long pause, Germany holding his hand up, blue eyes trained on the doorway as they listened to Russia's receding footsteps. He lowered his hand and looked about the room.

"I have no idea what scheisser we've gotten ourselves into," he declared in a rough whisper. "I can't tell if he's up to something, but he seems adamant to keep us in  _this_ room."

"He can't be trusted," America hissed loudly. "He probably wants to lock us up in here and hold us ransom, or worse-  _kill us_. I bet he sent Lithuania out there to silence France!"

"That's ridiculous," England snorted. "Lithuania wouldn't do that, anyway. Think about it. This is  _Lithuania_ we're talking about."

"I don't like this," Italy shook. "What if I never see casa mia again? Mio fratello? When will I see a pretty girl again?"

"Be quiet, Italy," Germany snapped. "That's not what's important right now."

"I bet he's hiding weapons of mass destruction in this house," America stated boldly. "I bet that's what he's getting."

"That's stupid, aru," China folded his arms. "Otherwise why would he make us drinks? Did anyone else notice how  _tense_ he is?"

"Yes, actually," England said. "He was."

"I bet it was-"

"Quiet," Japan whispered and America fell into a silence hush within moments.

They all inclined their ears and heard footsteps, accompanied by a strange rattling noise. Italy swallowed and once more hid behind Germany, clumsily pulling a white flag out of his jacket. They all stood, crowded in the middle of the room, watching as the door slowly opened and Estonia elbowed his way in. He stared at them, staring at him, and swallowed visibly and nervously. In his hands he held a tray balanced with cups and a large teapot. The tray rattled as he moved, the cups wobbling precariously on their spot. He carefully laid the tray on the coffee table and poured already brewed tea into their cups.

The silence seemed to be wearing down on the poor nation. England knew he had to say something.

"Estonia," America beat him to it. "You had us worried."

The Baltic nation turned towards the loud-mouthed fool, but looked relieved at the sound of him. "That's makes all of us. The silence was rather deafening."

"Thanks for the tea," America grinned, flashing his teeth and offering the thumbs up. "You gotta tell us, dude. What's Russia up to?"

"Mr Russia?" Estonia looked genuinely surprised, turquoise eyes filling with fear. "I... I would prefer not to speak ill of Mr Russia. Enjoy your tea."

He seemed grateful to leave, hurrying off before anyone could stop him. Estonia left the door open. The group of them watched, before huddling back into the middle of the room.

"It's OK," America whispered. "I managed to smuggle a gun in."

There was a horrible silence as they all stared at him, whilst he smiled proudly to himself.

"You idiot," Germany looked horrified. "What in the hell were you think when you did that?"

"Um, hello, dude?" America gawked. "We're in danger here, and I seem to be the only one who sees that."

"Oh, I see it, too," Italy nodded pointedly.

"What are you going to do, aru, shoot him?" China folded his arms. "In his own home? I don't think so, aru. And anyway, I've heard of Russians who can take several bullets before they hit the ground. I'm talking bullets to the  _head_ , aru!"

Here, China is talking about Rasputin, who was murdered by elite conspirators who believed he was the cause of World War One, that great battle across nations that began in 1914 and ended in 1918. Rasputin was invited to a party, where he became drunk off of wine supposedly laced with a large amount of cyanide. Afterwards, he was shot and deemed dead. However, he woke up and made a run for it upstairs! His murderers hastily followed, shooting him once more. Although both shots were fatal, he still managed to reach the gate outside before collapsing, dead.

"Wow," America suddenly seemed hesitant.

"Let's not worry about that right now," Germany sighed. "If Russia finds out America has a gun, that will be bad. For now, he doesn't have to know."

"True," Japan nodded. "Although, it was pretty stupid to bring it in the first place."

"Oh, come on, dudes!" America's shoulders sagged. "I was just being cautious about-"

He cut himself off as someone staggered into the room, violently shaking. It was France, his face reddened from the cold, with a panicked Lithuania trailing behind him.

"Mon Dieu!" France exclaimed. "That was awful. I thought I would never make it!"

He flopped dramatically down on the couch and lifted a warm cup of tea to his lips, closing his eyes and acting as if he were indulging himself on rich, divine ambrosia.

"Magnifique!" he sighed, sinking down into the sofa and seemingly dying on the spot.

"Glad you think so!" Russia beamed, walking into the room, holding a box without a label, its ornately carved surface giving no indication as to what was inside. "Goodbye, Lithuania."

"Oh, of course, Mr Russia," Lithuania seemed both thrown and eager to leave.

"Unless you want to play?"

"We're playing a game?" the life was suddenly revived in Italy, who had been unusually quiet. "I love games! What game are we playing?"

Russia smiled warmly. "I'm glad to hear that."

He sat down and, for some reason, they all followed, seating themselves. Lithuania hesitated, inclining towards the doorway, but sat with the rest of them when he received a pointed glance from Russia. They watched, tense, as he opened the box.

"This is always a fun game to play," Russia explained, rummaging through the box, strange clinking sounds coming from within. "I've always been especially good at it, although you really have to be!"

"What is it?" Italy couldn't stop fidgeting excitedly. "What is it?"

Russia lifted a gun and loaded it with bullets. "Russian Roulette."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I'm reading through this, I'm noticing that it's set in a liminal, timeless place. There used to be elements of both WW1 and present events, but I've set it more to a time where the Baltic nations were still under Russian control, and when the world isn't at war. It's somewhere in the 1900s, either after WW2, or during the 20s. You decide!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must admit, I read this and can't help but think about how far my writing has improved across the past 3 years. It's really rewarding to be able to give my readers better content, although this is where it all began so there's _definitely_ a lot of nostalgia that surrounds this fic.

**France started sputtering on the tea he had been drinking, choking on the mouthful he had swallowed.** Lithuania turned a horrid, pallid white, like a sheet that had been abandoned in the linen cupboard for quite some time. Russia's serene expression and vacant smile indicated he was far from joking.

Italy jumped to his feet. "Well, this had been a party! I just remembered I promised Romano- mio fratello,  _Romano_ \- I promised I'd help him with dinner tonight! Oops! Guess I can't stay!"

He charged towards the door and his fingers closed around the handle.

"But I thought you were so enthusiastic?" Russia turned in his sitting position and met Italy's gaze with a hollow stare and stretched smile. "I hope it's not  _too_ cold outside."

Italy was rooted to the spot. His instincts were, for once, telling him to remain closer to the danger rather than feel from it. Possibly because he had knowledge of the terrible storm rising outside; the slight moans of an outside breeze indicated the wind speeds had rapidly increased. There was a big chance the weather would prevent him from flying away anyway and, once he left, he had a sneaking suspicious Russia would be more than reluctant to let him back in. Italy turned on his heel with a grimace.

"Romano might be fine after all, since I'm...  _enthusiastic_ ," he said and seated himself once more, although his tense position was enough to tell everyone else in the circle he remained terrified.

"Now, Russia, I want you to put the gun down," America warned.

"Put the gun away?" Russia appeared confused. "We haven't even started the game? Not  _all_ clips contain bullets. Want to go first?"

America stood and reached for his jacket pocket, where all but Lithuania and Russia were aware the gun remained. Germany tensed and England threw himself at America, the pair of them crashing down in a heap, pinning America's arms away from where the gun rested. A moment's silence ensued as England wondered if that was the best way he could've handled the situation. He then went on to swiftly deliberate if it had been the  _only_ way to solve it. Germany was right. The instant Russia saw America's gun, it was over.

Russia coughed. "If you were eager to go first, you could've said. You realise this is all just a joke, da? We're not actually going to use a gun..."

England leant away from a disgruntled America. "We're not going to use the gun?"

Russia pursed his lips. "No, of course not. Unless  _you_ want to, but I wouldn't recommend it, da? Putting a bullet through someone's head is far from ideal and would cause too many complications for me. Besides, if it was America, it would be incredibly difficult to pin it down as a suicide."

Simultaneously, their faces slackened, apart from America, who grunted irritably. Lithuania blew out a quiet breath as Russia set the gun aside. All of them were more than happy to forget about it, whereas as America watched it with a cautious eye. From behind the sofa, Russia pulled out what looked like the most vicious of concoctions- a clear, white liquid that could've been VX, hydrogen peroxide or plain white. England, who was always cautious when it came to chemicals, regarded the small glass.

The next thing Russia did was whip out a spinner and a chilled bottle of vodka. A stunned silence filled the room as he clunked the bottle before his guests with a wide smile.

France started laughing. "Let's hope England doesn't have to drink that!"

"What's  _that_ supposed to mean?" he glared at France, who only gave a shrug and a smirk.

Russia ignored their comments and pushed the spinner towards England. "From the way you all reacted, you must know how to play Russian Roulette. In this version, we'll have vodka shots instead of gun shots! I understand a lot of you associate vodka with me, so this is a special occasion for us. If you spin the spinner and it lands on the bullet, you have to take a shot. Since you were so eager, England, you can go first!"*

Reluctantly, England pulled the spinner closer to himself. He needed to keep reminding himself that it was purely down to luck, that there was no possible way Russia, or France, had rigged the game in order to see what drunk England was like. With trembling hands, he laid his index finger upon the evil red spinner. There was sweat on his brow; everyone was watching him. He inhaled deeply and twisted the spinner around, watching the wheel of fate pass over that one icon that had a bullet on it. He watched it pass again, slower, and again, slower still. Then, it stopped.

Everyone stared at the spinner and Russia laughed.

"Take the first shot, England," he extended the little glass towards England.

The spinner had, somehow, landed on the bullet icon. England raised his head to see the devil reaching out towards him, smiling menacingly, the cup of poison in his hand. England took the tiny glass and held it in his hand. All eyes were on him.

"You just... swig it in one, right?" England asked, wearily. "And it's not poisoned?"

America snickered. "You don't know how to take a shot?"

Indignantly, England straightened his back. "Of course I do."

"Go on, then," France taunted, propping his elbow on his knee and putting his head in his hand, watching England.

"I will," England looked uneasily into the little glass.

It was only a little thing. It wasn't like there was even that much alcohol to consume. It would be one, long swallow and then his duty would be done for the night. That was, if he didn't get the bullet icon again.

England raised the glass to his lips, tipped his head back, and downed the contents of the glass. There was a sudden burning in his throat, a fire that made his eyes water, and his brain told him to retch the horrendous liquid back up. It was like drinking petrol, pure ethanol, a new kind of poison. However, vomiting would have been terribly inappropriate, considering he was both at a party  _and_ at someone else's house- not that he would want to do it in his own home, either. Besides, he was a gentleman and incredibly proud. Being sick would be a weakness in the eyes of the others, which he couldn't afford to show. He blinked back his tears, head swimming from the burning, and held the shaking glass towards Russia, who carefully pried it from his hands.

France looked astounded. "You really have  _never_ taken a shot before."

"I've taken shots," England huffed. "I just did. Let's play on."

The game commenced and England's luck didn't improve. Whilst everyone else was reduced to performing shots as well, he seemed to always be landing on the bullet icon, and each swig of vodka burned his throat and eyes. His head was swimming and sometimes, his head felt so heavy he had to support it on America's shoulder. Twice he was informed by Germany that he couldn't take his liquor and should quit, twice he was urged on by Russia who believed he was doing fine, so twice Germany was ignored.

The evening progressed and, before long, it was just everything England could do to keep his eyes open. The world was spinning, and everything Japan said was hilarious. The door suddenly opened and Ukraine peered in.

"Russia!" she beamed and embraced him. For some reason, England couldn't help but notice her chest. "Dinner's ready."

"Oh, good," he looked mildly pleased and set the vodka bottle aside. "I don't think England will be joining us. He seems very tired."

"That's because he's completely wasted," Italy observed, as they all looked at England leaning backwards on the sofa, already asleep.

Ukraine blinked, but seemed unsurprised that this had happened to England of all people. As a group, they travelled down the hallways of Russia's exquisite house, and whilst Germany was reluctant to leave England alone, he was also desperate not to allow Italy to roam without his firm instruction. He had to keep telling himself that, as long as Russia was within view, everything would be OK.

They arrived in a dining room. There was a long table, decorated with a snow white cloth that wasn't marred in the slightest. Candles were placed along its surface, flickering lazily. Estonia was currently in the process of lighting the last candles at the end of the table. Already laid out on the table were small little baskets filled with rye bread. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, although it was currently off, the curtains hung in drapes across large windows, blocking all view of the outside world, and a crackling fire filled the room with a homely warmth.

"Did I forget to mention my sisters would be here?" Russia explained, approaching the table.

Beaming, Ukraine seated herself beside Russia's other sister, Belarus. "Usually, dinner is a more casual thing, however we all wanted it to be special for our guests!"

For all of you that don't know, Russian dinners are spent as a family, sitting at the couch and discussing the current news. That could possibly be because dinner is only the  _second_ most important meal of the day. It consists of two appetisers, a main meal and a drink afterwards, usually tea. If you really want to know, lunch is the most important meal for Russians, and it includes a first course of soup, a second course of meat accompanied with potatoes, porridge or pasta, and then finished with a non-alcoholic beverage with additional cakes or chocolates afterwards. If they're seated at the table, it's always expected that rye bread be served, since it's a traditional Russian food. Considering his stature, it makes sense that Russia needs to eat that much!

"Why don't you all take a seat?" Russia offered, and his guests seated themselves.

He himself took the end of the table, Germany and Italy on either side. Japan was seated between Italy and America, with China next to France, and Russia's sisters on the other end of the table.

"Help yourself to the bread," Russia announced, gesturing towards the baskets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *
> 
> *A quick note, but please don't do this at home. These guys are inhuman and can take a lot more alcohol than our small human bodies.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've just seen the new Halloween film, and Michael Myers is terrifying. I went to this semi-interactive cinema, so we were sitting there and the lights suddenly flashed and this guy dressed as Michael Myers was just standing in the corner of the room. Truly terrifying.

**Accompanied with the rye bread, as expected, were cold meats and cheeses.** Germany watched Italy help himself, preparing himself a large bite and then chomping down. Reluctantly, he wondered if it was poisoned, but since Italy didn't immediately keel over, he deemed it safe to grab his own slice and eat. Germany was not a stranger to rye bread. Its tangy flavour was both familiar and welcomed, and the meals that followed that were also enjoyed.

Although Russia stated the names of each dish, Germany couldn't remember them. He firstly consumed a delicious potato salad that contained meat and vegetables. France seemed to celebrate this dish particularly, but Germany was content to silently mash up his potatoes and appreciate his food. The second dish to arrive, brought by Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania, was crab meat, rice, boiled eggs and sweet corn. He was fairly sure it was called Crab Stick Salad.

They reached their main meal, which must've been dough dumplings filled with pork, piled on the plate and steaming hot. So far, Germany believed the food had been excellent, and although it seemed never ending, he was grateful that such a meal was served, since he'd last eaten at twelve and it was already gone eight.

"It's been so wonderful having you all here," Russia sighed, taking arms with his knife and fork. "It's a shame England couldn't make it to the dinner table."

"Maybe we can save him something," Italy chuckled, nudging Russia gently with his elbow. Germany wondered if the Italian was a little drunk from the vodka roulette. "But then, he'd probably be satisfied with a rock, since that's the way his scones taste."

There were more snickers across the table, particularly from France and America, and even Russia laughed. There was a loud, impatient sigh, and then someone thudded a chair directly beside Russia. All heads turned to where Belarus had wedged her chair in between Russia and Italy. Russia swallowed anxiously and Italy shrank away, a nervous smile spreading across his face.

"H-hello, Belarus," Russia said casually, although Germany was sure there was some hidden panic in his eyes. He was also making a notable effort not to look at his sister. "Why did you move your chair?"

"Big brother Russia," she stated, seating herself and linking arms with him, sending a cold stare towards Italy who scooted his chair away, until he was touching shoulders with Japan. There were suddenly two people in the room who were uncomfortable from a disregard of personal space.

"O-oh," Russia swallowed. "You left your plate. You should go back. To your plate."

"We can share," she said, stabbing her own fork into one of his dumplings and sending a warning glare towards Germany whilst she chewed.

"So, Russia," China said awkwardly. "You said you were good at Russian Roulette. Is there a, well, you know. A story behind that statement?"

"Yeah, I survived bullets- what about it?" Russia looked quizzical as he gently tried to pry Belarus off his arm.

"Oh, nothing, aru," China's eyes flicked to Belarus and he continued eating. "Food is good."

"Seconded," France mumbled.

"Yes," Japan finished. "Very."

"Thank you," Russia said.

Germany noted that, after that, Belarus' harsh stares and dominating glares kept everyone at bay from Russia. He wondered if this was what it was like for Russia every day, when he had his sister round. He wasn't quite sure whether her attachment towards her brother was endearing, in that she seemed to want to protect him, or whether it was creepy and possessive. He liked to trick himself into thinking it was the former, but the way she kept glancing at him indicated it may have been the latter, as well as the worried expression written across Russia's face.

Politely, he swiftly devoured the dumplings, and they were all served tea afterwards. For the rest of the meal, Belarus insisted on staying right beside Russia, going as far as to lean her head on his shoulder. Her main aggressive behaviour was directed towards Italy, who seemed unable to meet her iron gaze. That was what confirmed to Germany that their sibling relationship was the latter.

After tea, Estonia brought in a large cake. Germany, who was nearing his food limit, decided this would be the last meal he would have for the day. It was a good choice to eat it. It was a light sponge, filled with airy souffle and topped with a chocolate glaze, with a puff of cream swirled on the end. Germany found he cleaned his plate and finished with a satisfied, quiet exhale. After a meal as great as that, Germany could happily say he could die content on the spot. Russia had really gone all out on the food department for his guests.

The meal was done and all stood to gradually disperse.

"Russia, where might I find the bathroom?" Italy asked as they walked into the hallway.

"Oh, just further down, about five doors," Russia pointed. "Want me to show you?"

"I'll be fine," Italy yawned and walked in that direction.

Germany considered accompanying him, but decided not to, since it was unlikely that Italy would leave Russia's house. He continued with the flock back to the room they'd be staying in, where England was fast asleep and seemingly unlikely to awaken soon. It seemed they would be later assigned rooms, since there wasn't enough space in the living room for all eight of them to sleep. Whilst Germany found it odd that Russia had insisted on a sleepover, he wasn't going to be one to criticise him, especially after the heavenly meal. They sat down in their circle once more.

"We should do truth or dare," France laughed. "I feel like I'm in the sleepover mode."

"Truth or dare?" Japan looked alarmed. "I'm not so sure..."

"It'll be fun," France nudged him. "Besides, it's not like we're going to ask you to do or say something too embarrassing."

"I don't know," Japan looked guarded.

"Come on," the blonde Frenchman nudged him again. "What else are you going to do?"

Japan fell into subdued silence and France took that as a victory, folding his arms triumphantly just as the door creaked open a crack. They all looked to see Belarus awkwardly peering in, her cheeks puffed out in what could've been frustration.

"Belarus, do you need something?" Russia asked.

"Big brother Russia," she said and he opened his mouth to reply. "Can I have a goodnight kiss?"

For a moment, his face slackened and he mirrored her expression. Turning his head away from her, he stiffly placed his hands on the floor, palms down.

"No," he said resolutely. "Absolutely not. This is boys only, Belarus. Go hang out with Ukraine."

"But big sister Ukraine is not as fun as big brother Russia," she stated ominously.

"No girls allowed," he huffed awkwardly.

"Fine," she sulked. "Anything for big brother Russia."

The door closed gently and Russia resumed his smile, relaxing as soon as she was gone.

"She won't be bothering us anymore," he declared. "Sisters! They're annoying."

Germany decided to take the opportunity to lighten the mood. "I bet brothers are worse. Prussia always gets on my nerves."

"Same," Russia smiled and Germany wondered whether he should be offended on Prussia's behalf, or amused.

"Oh, yeah, but sometimes I don't even realise Canada's there," America babbled. "He's just so quiet that you could lose him in an empty field!"

"Yes," Russia agreed politely. "That's true."

"Where is Italy?" France groaned. "We can hardly start the game without him."

"True," China said. "Send someone to find him, aru."

"I guess so," Russia shrugged and opened the door. "Lithuania, can you go find Italy?"

He paused to listen and there was a faint reply that satisfied him enough to close the door and seat himself once more.

"I suppose we can start without him," Germany shrugged. "He'll hardly contribute too much. He's too cowardly to perform any dares himself."

"OK," France beamed, rubbing his hands together. "Who wants to start? I say we play twenty-one dares. Whoever says twenty-one has to take the truth or dare. I'll start. The maximum numbers you can say are three. OK. One, two, three."

"Four, five, six," Japan said.

"Seven, eight, nine," Russia added.

"Ten, eleven," Germany.

"Twelve, thirteen, fourteen," America.

They all glanced at England. Fifteen, they unanimously decided.

"Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen," France, again.

"Nineteen... twenty?" Japan said hesitantly, and then cast a glance at Russia.

"Twenty-one," he smiled. "Guess I go first. I pick dare!"

"Alright," France grinned mischievously. "I dare you to put your man pride aside and kiss your little sister goodnight."

Russia looked panic stricken. "I can't do that."

Germany had to wonder if France had noticed the awkward situation between Russia and Belarus. If so, this was incredibly cruel.

"You picked dare, so you have to do it," France laughed.

Russia groaned and rubbed the back of his head.

"Is that really a good idea?" Germany suggested, hoping to change the mind of this cruel nation.

"Yes," France insisted. "We'll go with you, Russia, to make sure you treat your sister with respect."

"She doesn't want that," Russia mumbled, standing and heading towards the door.

The corners of France's mouth twitched downwards, but he scrambled to his feet and hurried after him. Germany pulled himself to his feet and found himself lagging at the back with Japan.

"I don't think this is a good idea," he muttered, and Japan shook his head in agreement.

Resuming to their original funeral procession, they travelled up a grand staircase. Germany found it strange they didn't bypass Italy along the way, but then, the house was so big there was a high chance the fool had gotten lost. They stopped at the door and Russia hovered for a moment before glancing pleadingly at France.

"I don't want to do this," he said.

"It's just a kiss on the forehead," France rolled his eyes. "Are you really that proud?"

France knocked on the door gently and they all awaited an answer.

"Hello?" Belarus sounded agitated from the other side. "Who is there?"

"B-Belarus? It's me..." Russia grimaced when France dug his elbow in his ribs. He cringed and waited.

"Come in," she said.

Germany watched as Russia, with a shaking hand, turned the door handle and opened the door. The room was dark, apart from the soft lamp that had a deep purple shade. Belarus sat forwards in her bed, a book hastily discarded on the floor.

"Russia," she purred, and the faces of both France and Russia instantly fell. "At lasat, you give into tempta-"

France grasped Russia's scarf, yanked him backwards and slammed the door shut. The noise echoed across the house. There was a moment of silence and then a noise like an enraged jaguar emerged from the other side.

"Run!" Russia announced and they bolted down the stairs.

"Russia!" Belarus screamed from down the hallway.

Germany wondered why they were running from a young woman.

Russia herded everyone into the safe room, the living room, and firmly bolted the door before diving behind the sofa. England snored and rolled over, slipping downwards and lying peacefully on the floor. France wrapped himself in the curtains and America switched off the lights, submerging them in total darkness. Germany stood in the middle of the room with Japan and China.

"Was that really necessary?" Germany asked.

"I don't know, but I feel stupid, aru," China scowled.

"I feel bad," Japan admitted. "We probably upset her."

"You never said your sister was nuts, Russia," France hissed.

There was a loud crash against the door. It strained on its hinges. Terrified, the three in the middle of the room tensed. There was another crash and the door bucked. The sound of nails raking across the door could be heard.

"Russia?" Belarus cried from the other side like a wounded animal. "Come out to me and leave all of them to each other."

"What's  _that_ meant to mean, aru?" China pursed his lips.

"I don't know, but I-" Germany began.

"She can hear you so be quiet," Russia pleaded from behind the sofa.

"Russia, I hear  _you_ ," the tone of her voice was ominous.

"I'm sorry, Belarus, it was a dare!" Russia blurted out. "Please don't hurt me and please leave me alone!"

"Um, Belarus... is Mr Russia in there?" Lithuania asked from outside.

"Russia's hiding from me," she announced loudly.

"It's quite late, so maybe you should go to bed?" Lithuania suggested calmly. "I think Mr Russia's trying to sleep."

"He's awake, dick face," she countered and Russia performed cutting motions for them all to remain silent. "Aren't you, big brother Russia?"

He shook his head desperately, and the silence was her only reply. Germany felt incredibly childish. Belarus moaned in frustration and stormed away from the room, thunderous footsteps fading as she got further away. Russia dared not move until there was the softest of knocks on the door.

"Are you sleeping, Mr Russia?" Lithuania asked quietly.

Russia cautiously rose and approached the door, like a frightened rabbit. He unbolted it quietly and opened it a crack. Lithuania's worried face could only be seen in the narrow slat Russia allowed.

"What do you want?" he asked.

"I've checked everyone inside and Latvia even helped me look around outside," Lithuania twiddled his thumbs. "But your friend, Italy, is nowhere to be seen."

Russia swung the door open. "What?  _Really?_ "

Lithuania cast him an odd glance. "Um, yes. Your friend, Italy, has disappeared, and none of the planes are gone."

Russia turned to see all eyes trained him, looks of mistrust, anger, worry and, on America's behalf, smugness.

"Oh," Russia watched all other countries as a conclusion arose. "Oh, gavno."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is all honestly just a throwback for me. I can't believe I used to write like this, but at the same time, this is where I began sharing words with others.

**It was one of those awkward situations that Russia was completely unaware of how he was supposed to escape.** It was like going to the local laundromat and having to explain to the local babushkas that he had somehow accumulated three weeks worth of clothes. This was exactly like that awkwardness. All others seemed to have decided he was the enemy and thus the cause of Italy's disappearance.

"Explain yourself, Russia," America announced. "What have you done with Italy?"

"I haven't done anything with him," Russia held his hands up defensively. "He's gotten himself lost, I guarantee you."

"That's it, I've had enough," America started patting down his jacket.

"Both of you be quiet for a moment," Germany roared. "I know Italy. He would be too scared to go outside. He is either in this house, or Russia has done something to him."

"I've done nothing," Russia protested.

"And there I thought things were going so well," France sighed. "It seems someone has to go and ruin things as usual."

"We need to handle this matter securely," Germany gave Russia a withering glance. "For some reason, our host seems unaware of his own guests' locations."

"He went to the bathroom," Russia sounded irritated. "Stop blaming me for things I haven't done. If I had decided to pick you all off one by one, I would've done it whilst you were in your planes."

He received plenty of odd stares after saying that and ran a hand through his hair awkwardly.

"But I clearly didn't do that, did I, da?" he stated. "Lithuania, did you check the bathroom Italy went to?"

"I can't say," Lithuania looked puzzled. "I hadn't realised he went to the bathroom. I tried to check every door, but I may have missed one."

"Alright, rather than aim your anger at me, let's make sure he hasn't tripped and knocked himself out," Russia declared impatiently. "All stay as a group."

"Why the hell are we going to take orders from you?" America folded his arms. "We can't even  _trust_ you."

Russia sighed irritably. "Fine. I can go without you."

"Wait," Germany held up his hands. "We need to trust each other to some degree. It may be hard, but if Lithuania really hasn't checked the bathroom Italy was in, and we really do find something we don't want to see, it may at least confirm to us whether we can or can't trust one another."

"He's sensible, aru," China jerked a thumb in Germany's direction. "I'm sticking with him tonight."

"Can everyone agree with me?" Germany tried desperately.

"Look, I ain't gonna let my guard down," America stated. "I've never been able to trust this guy. As soon as he invited me to this party of his, I've been suspicious."

"What?" Russia glanced at America. "I didn't  _have_ to invite you, but I felt  _obliged_ to, for some reason..."

"At the beginning of that party, you had a gun at the ready and it was only from the general, negative reception that you put it down," America countered. "Face it, Russia. You're outnumbered. Your schemes are done."

"Schemes, huh?" Russia's face darkened. "Is that what you think this is?"

"Exactly that," America's expression was grave. "Now, hold your hands high where I can see them."

Russia chuckled. "Lithuania, step outside."

Lithuania looked alarmed. "Mr Russia?"

"Do it."

He complied and withdrew from the room. Without another word, Russia gave the group a warm smile and stepped out of the room, slamming the door shut. They listened to the click of the lock. All stood stunned in their confinement.

"Hey, what's the deal?" America yelled and charged at the door. His shoulder crashed against the heft wood, but it barely rattled.

"It's for your own good," Russia said ominously from the other side. "Come on, Lithuania. Let's go."

They listened to the receding footsteps. Then they were, once more, plunged into eerie silence. No one was entirely sure of what to say, until Germany swept open the curtains and stared at the full-scale blizzard outside.

"Lithuania and Latvia went outside in  _that_?" Japan looked amazed.

"I'm starting to wonder whether they did, or if that was a ploy Russia set up," America scowled. "We should've stopped him before he got away."

"It's too late to be thinking like that," Germany admitted. "We have no means of escape. Whether we exit this room or not, we won't be leaving Russia's house. In all honesty, we're defenceless. It's a miracle he hasn't attempted to kill us already."

"Isn't that the point, though?" France appeared sceptical. "Something doesn't add up."

"Then why did he lock us in this room?" America questioned.

"He said it was for our own good," China's mouth twisted into a frown. "This isn't what I call good, aru. I call this bad, aru. Stuck in this room and there's isn't a lit fireplace. He's going to freeze us to death, aru."

"Just as I thought," America muttered under his breath.

"Hold it!" Germany bellowed over the indignant countries. "France is admittedly right. Something isn't quite right, but I still don't think Russia is acting without bad intentions. I don't know what he's planning, but I can't say if it was him who dispatched of Italy."

"You don't think he's dead, do you?" China glanced uneasily at the door. "I may be old, but I'm still too young to die, aru. Especially by the cold hands of Russia."

"I considered not coming, but Italy and Germany were going, so I thought why not..." Japan sighed. "Now look. Russia's betrayed us."

"Is it really a betrayal if we barely trusted him in the first place?" America demanded. "I don't think so. He's a dirty liar and a cheat. We need to take him down."

"Are you saying someone is helping Russia?" France asked Germany.

"It's probably one of his three lackeys," America clenched a fist. "Those three will pay the price of their crimes because of this. But first, we need to get out of this room and take Russia down."

"That's not going to happen," Germany scowled. "We need to open this door gently, not by crashing it down."

"Anyone know how to pick locks, aru?" China glanced around. "I can't. I don't want to hurt my hands trying, either."

"I doubt we have connection with a blizzard like this," Japan added nervously. "We would need to find the house phone, but that would also mean escaping this room. I doubt the operator would get through, anyway. You could almost say we're entirely stranded."

America's eyes widened and he slapped a palm to his forehead. "How could I have been so stupid? If I'd handled this the same way heroes handle enemies in horror books, we'd be OK."

"This isn't a horror book, though," China rolled his eyes. "It's real."

"Yeah, but it  _mirrors_ a horror film," America replied. "We, the protagonists, are stuck in a creepy, isolated building with a psychopath, Russia, who is killing us one by one. We have no connection with the outside world and the random supporting character has already been picked off, which alerts the rest of us to a wrong situation."

"Italy was not a supporting character," Japan commented.

"He seems like one," America shrugged. " _Either way_ , if you let me blast the lock off this door, we can rampage the place and conquer it just like the hero, me, does."

"Or we miserably die," Japan worried. "Just like how they would in most ghost stories at home. Or we'll be forever haunted by our actions and suffer as the result."

"That's never going to happen," America waved a dismissive hand. "I can't stay trapped in this room when I could be out there being the hero! I honestly don't know how Russia's sisters can handle him if he's always been this way."

"Because on of them is obsessed with him and the other can only look at him with rose-coloured glasses," France panicked. "Russia's sisters aren't in danger because they're on Russia's side. We're the ones who are enemies in this household."

"First of all, we need to determine if Russia really is guilty," Germany rubbed his temples. "Let's weigh the facts."

"Russia's guilty whether we weigh the facts or not," America responded. "Everything he just did indicated he was the one who attacked and hid Italy's body. This has become an offence against all nations and, if I had a phone connection, I would alert all other nations to commence an attack against Russia in order to aid us."

"You haven't considered any other facts," France scowled. "Stop putting everything on Russia just because you hate him."

"Whose side are you on, dude?" America looked exasperated. "He's so suspicious. Who else could it be? Do you even have proof to show his innocence?"

"I have no clear clarity of his innocence," France stated. "But the evidence is right beside me."

He gestured towards England, who lay sleeping soundly beside the sofa. He was still oblivious to the surrounding world and still didn't seem likely to awaken any time soon.

"England?" America looked confused. "How is he 'evidence'?"

"If Russia aimed to pick us off one by one, he would've targeted England," France explained. "England is still here. Whilst Russia is not acting ordinary, I don't think he's the one who took Italy."

"Are you saying there's some murderer in Russia's house?" China looked dubious. "I don't know, aru. This place is like a fortress."

"I don't know," France shrugged. "I just don't think it can be Russia."

"Could Italy be playing a trick on us?" Japan suggested.

"Italy wouldn't be able to think this kind of plan up," Germany shook his head. "He also wouldn't be able to play it this far."

"We can't just stand around here all night," America announced. "We either go to sleep, or we bust the hell out!"

"If we do the latter, what do we do with England?" China gestured towards the sleeping Brit. "Leave him?"

"We can't leave him," France objected.

"That's true," America looked doubtful. "And he'd be a liability if we chose to carry him around with us."

"We can't leave him," France repeated.

"I suppose we could stay here," Germany said. "It's not like Russia has pulled any weapons against us thus far."

"I'm not willing to wait until he does, aru," China said. "I want to leave, aru."

"I'll admit, I'm worried about Italy," Japan confessed. "If England was fine before, what's to say he won't be fine now?"

"If we leave, we break Russia's house rules," France looked stricken. "He'll be really pissed off, then."

"He's  _already_ pissed off," China said. "Nice job, by the way, America. At least he'll kill you first, aru."

"Not if I don't get there first," America declared.

"You can't  _possibly_ be thinking of actually killing him despite not having enough evidence?" France reasoned weakly.

"There's enough evidence," America scowled.

"We need to stick together," Germany grit his teeth. "We can't afford to leave England. The less of us there are, the greater advantage our enemy has."

"You mean Russia," America corrected.

"Not necessarily," Germany folded his arms stubbornly. "I agree with France."

"If we stay in this room, our enemy will know where we are," Japan frowned. "Do we really want that?"

"But if our enemy knows where we are, then England is only in more danger," France said.

"Our enemy  _knows_ where we are, because our  _enemy_ is  _Russia_ ," America sighed impatiently.

"How many times must I tell you that that is not necessarily true?" France groaned.

England moaned and stirred, lifting a hand to his head. He pulled himself into a sitting position and looked at all the ashen faces staring at him. He squinted past the insistent headache and still blurred vision until he saw, in the darkness, all eyes upon him. He yawned and rubbed at his aching head.

"What on Earth is going on?" he grumbled, pulling himself into a standing position; he wobbled a little, but caught himself on the sofa before he did something like toppling over.

"England, you're awake," America grabbed him by the shoulders the shook his dazed friend. "You need to get us out of this room."

"Don't shake him," France pried America away from his European ally. "He's still recovering from the drink."

"My head hurts," England complained. "What happened? I'm absolutely starving. What time is it?"

"You missed dinner," Germany stated, deadpan.

"Get us out of here, England," America pleaded. "Russia's locked us in."

"What?" England glanced around at all the concerned faces. He wasn't sure why they were so anxious.

"Russia has gone insane, aru," China said flatly. "He has kidnapped and possibly murdered Italy and has no locked us in this room in order to stop us escaping or finding Italy, or anything that could prove him guilty, aru. Pick the lock, and that would be really good. I want to make it home alive, aru."

England rubbed his forehead again. "I feel terrible."

"England, you've gotta snap out of this," America snapped his fingers in his face. "There's no time for hangovers. We're in a crisis here."

"It's 'you've got to', not 'you gotta'- I thought  _I_ was the one who taught you to speak?" England muttered and his allies breathed sighs of relief. He was acting normal.

"Can you pick the lock?" America asked.

"A crisis, you say?" England approached the door clumsily and peered into it. "I can pick this."

"Y-you can?" Germany looked quizzical.

"England's secret service isn't the best for no reason," he announced, producing a paperclip from his pocket and bending its shape. "Our spies are resourceful and understand how to escape deadly situations."

He fit the paperclip into the lock and they heard the clicks as the lock slid loose. England pulled the paperclip out and opened the door.

"What do you say?" he said pretentiously, aware that he was rubbing it in, but greatly enjoying it, since all had been obstructed by a door earlier on.

"Thank you," they all muttered in reluctant replies.

"Time to save Italy!" America declared in a loud whisper and charged out of the room.

He was followed by the rest. The team were prepared. But who, exactly, were they facing?


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all had a good Halloween. I feel like it's fitting that I'm posting a somewhat horror story near the time of spooks! A little late, but still posting nevertheless!

**The blizzard outside buffeted the Russian fortress and snow fell in heaps.** The door was jarred shut, even though America and Germany strained against it. They were trapped inside just purely from the weather. America sighed when they only managed to open it a crack, only to let in clumps of snow and a vicious wind. He slammed the door shut once more, and even took the time to bolt it shut to prevent any more invisible ice from freezing them. The only person seemingly unaware of the terrible cold was England, and the majority put that down to his recovering hangover.

"We really are stuck here, aren't we?" America sighed, sliding down the door and sitting there, a defeated expression reaching his face. "Guess we really do have to go into a war with Russia. I was kinda hoping that would be avoided, since a war between myself and him would be catastrophic."

"We could try and find Italy?" Japan suggested. "I doubt he's dead. Perhaps he really has just gotten himself lost and didn't encounter Lithuania along the way. Maybe we were just too quick to blame Russia..."

"I feel bad as well," France sighed. "He took the time to invite all of us to his house. I'm not sure why, but he did."

England folded his arms and looked at them questioningly. "I've missed a lot. Can somebody fill me in?"

"Long story short, aru, Italy went missing on his way to the bathroom and we blamed Russia, aru," China said. "Who wouldn't? Anyway, he got angry, locked us in the room and left us for dead, aru."

"Charming," England muttered. "There's something going on here and I certainly want to know what it is. I believe splitting up would be a bad idea, but we need to find Russia and this house is huge."

"We can travel in groups of three," Germany suggested.

"That could work," England pondered. "Actually, there are  _six_ of us, so that would be very good."

"In that case, I'll be in a group with England and France," America announced. "Japan, China and Germany can be the other group. We'll search the east side of the house, you guys can do the west."

China snorted with laughter. "How about no? I'm not going anywhere  _near_ creepy Belarus' room. You can forget it, aru. I would rather go outside."

"Fine, fine," England said, unaware of why China was acting so strange towards Russia's younger sister. "We can swap."

"I-I'm not sure about that," France said, intimidated.

"What's the bloody problem?" England fumed. "All of you are scared of a young woman wearing a dress? That's ridiculous. What is she going to do to you guys that makes you so terrified? Besides, I've heard things about her that tells me she'd be more interested in  _Russia_ than us."

Germany brought a palm to his head. "Mein Gott, you're right. You saw the way she was earlier."

"We left  _him_ for dead," France grabbed his head in distress. "He wanted us to go with him for that very reason. We abandoned him!"

"It was probably Belarus who did that to Italy," Germany added. "She really didn't like him."

"We blamed Russia..." Japan said guiltily.

"Did you never think to even consider Russia's family?" England asked sceptically and they all glanced at him. "That's really... well, I don't know..."  _Stupid_.

"We have to go save  _Russia_!" America announced. "Split into our teams. Meet back here in two hours. That way, we'll have a lot of time."

"What time is it now, about eight thirty?" England checked his watch. "Yes, so we'll meet here at ten thirty."

"Sounds good to me," Germany said, staring at his watch until the numbers seemed to imprint on his mind. "If any of us get in danger, don't initiate combat. Try and flee."

There was general consent as they split into both groups. England was aware his team had a riskier area to cover but, even so, if Belarus was looking for Russia, there was no telling which team would encounter her.

"We'll start upstairs," England said and then noticed France and America trembling as they walked along. "What is wrong with you two?"

"Belarus hates me," France pleaded. "She'll target me next, I just know it. I should never have made that dare to Russia."

" _Russia_ hates me," America grimaced. "Which means she probably does as well. That means  _I_ could be the next target."

"How about the pair of you stop worrying about what's going to happen to you and start worrying about what  _is_ happening to you?" England threatened, pitying their fear. "If you don't follow me now, I'll be very tempted to throw you down the stairs."

That seemed to satisfy them to an extent and they followed afterwards. England's only consolation was the sound of their footsteps behind his own. However, that was equally worrying, as France and especially America were never quiet. He pressed on, each step taking him towards a new unknown.

* * *

Meanwhile, Germany was having an easier time handling his crew. They had reencountered the dining room and the comfort of the lit candles constrasted to the eerie absence of life within the room. There were no signs to indicate ten people had dined there only an hour ago. Germany noticed that even the rye bread baskets had been taken.

Japan walked across the length of the room and drew the curtain slightly aside. The outside world was a chaotic white mass of snow and wind, the skies were impassive, cloudy and darkened, and the deadly scene of the trees perched on the horizon was chilling. There was no escape. Japan let the curtain fall back in place.

"How about we try the kitchens?" he said. "Italy might have gone there."

"I didn't think of that," Germany pondered and they changed their direction from the dining room.

They had no idea as to where the kitchen could be but, along the way, they found the bathroom that Italy had supposed been to. The door was wide open and, looking inside, Germany valued the ordinary appearance of it. Pristine, white and scrubbed to perfection, he truly had to admire the order that must've been put into the maintenance of such a room.

"Italy was here, alright," China nodded and gestured towards the sink.

Beside it was the white flag he usually carried around with him. Germany approached the accessory and picked it up. It was cold and seemingly having been untouched for a while now. Why Italy had removed it from his pocket in the bathroom was...

"Hang on a second," Germany gasped. "Italy was actually attacked whilst in the bathroom."

"How do you know, other than the fact he left his flag here?" China asked. "He's not the smartest guy. Very forgetful, as well."

"Believe me I know, but he always uses this flag when he's in danger," Germany explained. "He must've pulled it out when he encountered a threat upon leaving the bathroom. This is something the attacker chose to leave."

"How come Russia didn't find it?" Japan asked. "Wasn't he headed towards the bathroom?"

"That's true," Germany rubbed his chin. "I'll be taking this as evidence. We don't want the attacker returning and attempting to hide it."

"What if it  _was_ Russia?" China asked, scrutinising the bathroom cupboard, which was filled with toothpaste and plenty of female toiletry items.

"Then Russia never came here," Germany stated, matter of fact. "I won't draw conclusions, but Russia never left our sight once Italy was gone. It can't be him."

"Unless he had an accomplice," Japan corrected.

"True," Germany said. "For which case, he can never be trusted."

He tucked the white flag of surrender in his pocket and left the bathroom, back into the shady hallways. Time had progressed, night had spread her shadow further across the house and hallways were plunged into darkness and quiet. It was also very cold. Germany could hear the distant moans of the wind outside but, beyond that, the hallways were unforgiving and foreboding. Nevertheless, he had no other option other than to press further.

* * *

Russia was in no greater a situation than Germany. In a black mood, he had left the others to their own devices, and away from the evil of Belarus. Lithuania had loyally stuck by his side and he'd managed to traverse in the opposite direction of the house from the bathroom he'd intended to go to. He was in the west wing, which troubled him, because just upstairs was Belarus, sleeping. The dare set by France still lingered boldly in his mind. Therefore, he'd resolved to remain quiet, as had Lithuania. The pair of them were head towards the eastern wing, where the bathroom was, and had been doing so for some time, now. Russia had kept a consistent stream of conversation going, but every now and then, he grew tired of speaking. He was nervous because the house could get dark and eerie, General Winter rattling on the windows, but also because he didn't want to be accused of what could potentially be revealed as murder.

"I honestly don't think it was right of them to accuse me like that," he spilled out indignantly, as memories fired his emotions once more. "I treated them to a wonderful dinner that Estonia and Latvia cooked for them, I entertained them with a drinking game they all seemed to enjoy,  _and_ I allowed them into my house in the first place. I admit, my original intentions were a  _little_ selfish, but I've actually found their company to be very enjoyable, since I usually get avoided and slandered by people like America and Prussia, da? Also, whilst you, Latvia and Estonia are perfectly fine, there are times when I want to ram a metal pole through your faces, and you're all so  _formal_ and treat me with a certain  _distance_. I can clarify that I never want to get close to Belarus, and Ukraine can be so  _suffocating_. I  _hate_ being the only brother, so it's great when I get to hang out with other people. Lithuania, you've said  _nothing_. Beforehand, you at  _least_ hummed your responses, but now I'm beginning to wonder whether you're even listening..."

He walked a few paces, but silence followed.

"I'm starting to wonder if you're even listening,  _da_?" he repeated forcefully.

Russia stopped in the middle of the hallway. The wind was howling outside. Although his windows were especially thick, he could still hear its moans, like a wounded soldier, just beside him. His blood felt icy, his hands were clammy and cold, and the silence enveloped him like the sea of a dark, winter's day, when the black waters could swallow a man and he could never be seen again. Russia's heart was hammering in his chest. He dared to turn around, just to confirm what he feared most.

The hallway was completely empty. Lithuania was not there.

"Lithuania?" Russia called out into the darkness, but there was no reply.

He was alone.

* * *

England was in the most fortunate position. They had been investigating each room, one by one, although France was a little ahead, eager to pry and nose his way around Russia's home in order to find secrets he was unlikely to find.

"I want to find Russia's room," he had said with the excitement of a child, which England found embarrassing for him. "I want to see if he keeps any dirty stuff there!"

"Why do you want to know that?" he had demanded, but the Frenchman had tapped his nose and continued in his path of discovery.

Right now, France had moved on to the next room, whilst he and America thoroughly checked under the bed of an empty guest room to see if Italy was hiding underneath. So far, they had found nothing that indicated Italy was in the west wing. They hadn't encountered Belarus, either. Whilst it was comforting that America and France had pulled themselves together, he found it unnerving that France was splitting away from the group so frequently.

"This is seriously getting creepy," America admitted, stretching and glancing around the room.

"I know," England reluctantly agreed, for he was always reluctant to agree with America. "I was kind of hoping Italy  _was_ playing some kind of trick on us."

The door suddenly slammed shut and they were thrown into sudden darkness. There was a sharp cry of panic from America, but then England flicked o the lights. America shook his head and he turned them off once more.

"Hey, I found something of Ukraine's that might be interesting to you two," France chuckled as he approached the door and rattled the handle. "Why is the door lo-"

There was a sudden thud, followed by an anguished cry. America's mouth formed a wide 'O', and England stared into space, terrified as they listened to France's tortured wails- and then silence. They waited for what must've been twenty agonising minutes and then there was a soft knock at the door.

"Is that you, Russia?" Belarus asked from the other side, but wandered away when she was satisfied nobody was in the room.

Time passed painfully on, and then England reached for another paperclip.

"Wait," America said hoarsely as he grabbed England's wrist. "Do we really want to see what's out there?"

"Do we really have a choice?" England replied, his voice shaking a little as he unclipped the lock.

He swung the door open to reveal France's blue cloak strewn across the floor, but no France.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**America and England stood in the darkened hallway.** Their third companion had vanished from sight. England knelt down and lifted the cloak in his hands. So many times he had criticised France for wearing it, but the agonised sounds of his dying cries outside run in his mind chillingly. Never again would he scoff at the very sight of France. What had happened to France told very possibly the same fate Italy had met. It was very likely that it was Belarus and that she had dragged France away with her in her crazed pursuit to find Russia.

He stood and hung France's memorial on the door handle. America picked something up off the floor.

"I suppose this is what he wanted to show us," he commented, blushing, as he held up one of Ukraine's bras.

Both of them considered it for a moment, before deciding to hide it beneath France's cloak on the door. France's last moments were spent ogling a woman's undergarments. England couldn't help but pity the fool.

"What do we do now?" America asked, as they stood, lost, in the hallways.

"Going back won't help us," England checked his watch to see it was around twenty to eight. "We'd have to wait over an hour in plain view until all the others arrived. I think our best option is to keep going. Maybe Belarus' room will have something that will pinpoint us in the right direction?"

America appeared alarmed. "Do you really want to go anywhere near there?"

"We have to," England said with a new resolution.

They left the remains of their fallen friend and progressed further down the hallway. It was America who knew the direction, as he had borne witness the devastating effects of Belarus' obsessive personality. Without hesitating, he opened the door to her room.

The lamp remained on, its soft, purple light filling the room. Belarus was not present, thankfully, and her book had been moved to her bedside table. England cautiously walked into the room. It smelt surprisingly girly, the faint aroma of perfume. It was weird to think such an abnormal person could have such a normal room. He ambled around, glancing at her belongings. There was a family photo with Ukraine cut out, making it just Belarus and Russia. A little shelf showed a row of books, all with Russian and Belarusian covers. She had a little snow glove that still had a little card on it that read 'Merry Christmas. Russia'.

 _How impersonal_ , England thought, setting it aside and thinking of the educational classical literature books he often send to Sealand each year for his birthday. He never got anything back, but what do you expect of children? Inconsiderate, really. He always wrote a personal note displaying necessary familial affection on the front and inside.

"Hey, she keeps one of those photo books," America commented from the other side of the room. "I'm always one for nostalgia and sentiment."

He flicked it open and started flipping through the pages. England left him to idly doing that, whilst he checked under the bed, only to find a strange, black box. Cautiously, he pulled it out and saw a strange padlock had been attached to keep it closed. He picked the lock with ease and opened the lid, seeing what looked like a diary inside. England dared to open the diary to see if it was recent, only to find it was. He looked at the current entry.

" _Dear Diary. Russia and his nasty friends played a terrible trick on me. He was dared to kiss me and, although I knew he desired to do so, he was clearly embarrassed to do so in front of the company of others, especially the Log Bread and the Burger. But I forgive my dearest Russia, because Russia is the only one for me. The book is still taking me a while to read. It's a little boring (and I mean really boring), but stupid Ukraine told me it was one of Russia's favourites, so I'm trying my best to finish it. Belarus xxx_ "

Awkwardly, England snapped the diary shut and placed it back inside the box. He closed the lid and pushed it back under the bed. She would only know someone had opened it at the end of the next day, which was a full twenty-four hours. He stood just as America started sputtering with concealed laughter.

"What's wrong with you?" he hissed impatiently.

"This girl is such a freak," he turned the book around to reveal pictures of Russia, fast asleep and unaware of the presence of someone taking photos of him.

If she wasn't Russia's sister, England would  _almost_ pity her strange approach to attempting to get Russia's attention. America closed the photo book and set it aside once more. They both checked the bathroom, but there was nothing of importance there.

"Guess she hides her tracks pretty well," America sighed. "We have no evidence against her."

"We'll just have to keep looking around," England said. "There's a lot more of the house we need to look through, and it's not like we've explored the ground floor, either."

"How many floors are there?" America groaned as they left Belarus' room, closing the door gently behind them.

"Two, I think," England muttered.

They continued their journey down the darkened hallways as the time ticked on.

* * *

Germany was sure he had heard screaming in some distant part of the house. His body had gone tense at the sound and his companion's expressions hadn't been as relaxed as earlier. China was still on edge, staying close to Japan and glancing over his shoulder. The way he was already using him as a meat shield was somewhat disturbing in Germany's opinion.

"What do you think that was?" he asked.

"I don't know, but I am not going  _anywhere_ near that, aru," China trembled. "My life is way too valuable to sacrifice."

"And  _mine_ isn't?" Japan glanced at him.

"I didn't mean it like that," China said doubtfully, but he still didn't move away.

"I say we go," Germany declared. "The other three sound in danger. The more of us there are, the more likely we are to take down our enemies."

Through an overall majority, China was outvoted. The three of them turned direction and progressed towards the sounds of danger, rather than away. It was with foreboding hearts that a particular member of the group walked, unaware of his own fate.

* * *

Russia was cowered down in the corner of a room, having crammed himself underneath a table and turned off all the lights. He was pretending to not exist, because he had heard some very horrible screams not far from where he had been walking and, since Lithuania had vanished, he was completely alone and unsure of what to do with himself. After the dreadful sounds of death, Russia had heard the all too familiar voice of Belarus searching for him. It had become too much at that point, and hiding had been his only option. Other than that, he didn't exactly known what to do with himself. The world had been plunged into silence, and the quiet was suffocating him.

Russia blocked his ears and put his head in between his knees, trying to drown out the world around him.

* * *

England and America had been opening doors and finding nothing. It came to a point where the searching process seemed repetitive and worthless. As they were walking along, England noticed a square outline on the ceiling, noticeable compared to the flat, light coloured ceiling. His eyes widened as he realised what it was.

"That's a loft," he stated, drawing America's attention to the square.

"Russia has a loft?" America frowned.

"Yes, and it could be a possible location where Italy and France were taken," England pointed upwards. "We just need a ladder."

"Where can we find a  _ladder_?" America pondered.

"Oh, I don't know," England rolled his eyes. "The garage, perhaps?"

"Good point, but does Russia have a garage?" America neared the closest window and looked outside. "Besides, his garage will be outside. I doubt we'll be able to get to it."

"Unless it's attached to the house," England mused. "Some garages tend to be."

"That's true," America said. "I guess we should be looking for the pantry then, or the kitchen."

"I assume those would be close to the dining room," England said. "That means we should return to the east wing."

"Good idea," America said.

The two of them made a silent mental note of how they reached this area, and then proceeded to walk back in the direction from whence they'd come. America was invigorated by new life and enthusiasm after the disappearance of France; however, a nagging feeling in the back of England's head told him that something terribly wrong was happening.

* * *

Japan, who was walking a few paces behind Germany, was aware of how close China insisted on standing next to him. In his opinion, people had decided to play on the element of horror and use it as an excuse to invade his personal space. His disliked it greatly, but felt too uncomfortable to blurt out anything that could offend them. Instead, he had to silently endure what he hated most.

"We have an hour left," Germany noted as they walked swiftly down the corridor. "Although, we may meet them anyway."

As they were passing by the kitchen, movement caught Japan's attention. He paused and saw that all candles had been blown out, the dining room blackened inside, where nothing could be seen.

"Someone's in there," he stated. The other two followed his gaze towards the dark room.

"Let's leave," China panicked. "I don't want to die. I'm happy being alive, aru. Don't make me die with you two."

Germany stormed into the dining room and turned on the main lights. Japan peered in as well, only to see it was empty. Strange, considering the light of the candle had just gone out. There was a moment's pause before Japan noticed what looked like a door behind the curtains.

"There doesn't appear to be anything here," Germany decided.

"Look at this, you two," he murmured, opening a little door that led into what looked like a hallway.

He ducked under, fitting himself into a narrow tunnel that was dimly lit. He saw a glimpse of movement at the end of it, disappearing around a corner. He sucked in a breath. Whoever that was at the end of the tunnel was the one who had taken Italy.

He darted forwards, hearing the footsteps of his comrades behind him. The tunnel was small and confined, even for him, and something you'd expect only a child to comfortably travel through. Never the less, Japan pressed further, turning the corner and seeing a door at the end of the tunnel.

Japan hesitated a moment, hearing the soft breathing of either China or Germany behind him.

"I saw someone go down this tunnel," he explained, walking forwards in a strained hunch, eyes trained on the door. "I bet this is where the attacker's been hiding."

He had slowed his pace to remain quiet. The attacker would be in that very room. He approached slowly, then closed his hand around the door knob. He inhaled deeply, nervous as to who would be on the other side.

With one movement, he flung the door wide open. It was completely dark inside, and very cold. A strip of light revealed that the room was, strangely, empty. Rusted hooks hung from the ceiling. Japan wondered what kind of room this was.

Suddenly, hands planted firmly on his back and shoved him through the doorway. He fell to his knees and the door slammed shut behind him. With great agility, Japan leapt to his feet and grabbed the handle, but a tell-tale click told him he was locked in. His hands were clammy, and he turned around. It was utterly silent, save the haunting whisper of wind escaping into the room.

"Hello?" he called out as loud as he could, sweat breaking out on his palms and forehead. "Is anybody there?"

He received no answer. Japan was alone. It only just occurred to him, then, that there were two chilling possibilities based on this outcome. The first was that, when doing down the tunnel, it had never been China or Germany behind him. His skin prickled at the thought of a murderous attacker breathing down his neck the entire time without his realising, right behind him, luring him into this deadly trap. The other possibility was equally frightening, for it meant that either Germany, or China, or both, were responsible for Italy's disappearance.

* * *

Germany paused in the corridor. He could only hear one set of feet behind him. He turned and saw China staring at him, bored but tense. There was no sign of Japan.

"Where's Japan?" he asked worriedly.

"Right here," China jerked a thumb over his shoulder at thin air, but only checked over his shoulder from the fearful look in Germany's eyes. "Well, shit."

Turning, the pair of them raced all the way back to the dining room. Germany found the core lights and slammed his fist against them in rage and panic. The lights shot on. The room was empty.


	8. Chapter 8

**Germany and China awkwardly stood in the middle of the room.** Japan was nowhere in sight and wind speeds had risen to abnormal paces outside. Germany could hear the sorrowful howls outside. China lifted a candle from the table and inspected it. Smoke was still rising from it.

"Did he encounter someone in here?" he asked, setting it back down.

"Surely he would've heard a struggle..." Germany frowned. "We saw the candle get blown out, but there was nobody in here. I checked. I even thought Japan had followed me out of the room when we couldn't find anyone here."

"I'm starting to wonder if it was the wind that blew those candles out," China pointed towards the empty fireplace where the wind whistled through. "That would blow them out."

"That's true," Germany replied. "Perhaps Japan wandered off?"

"Why would he do that in a time like this, aru?" China complained. "I thought he was clever, aru!"

"He  _is_ ," Germany narrowed his eyes. "Which is why I doubt he would simply just walk off..."

"Hello there, boys!" Ukraine beamed cheerfully, walking into the room. "I heard you all running around and shouting. Are you playing a game of hide and seek, or something?"

"Um, well..." Germany looked uncomfortable.

Ukraine clapped her hands together. "If it's hide and seek, you should come and stay in the lounge I'm in. I'm just watching TV, but little Russia would never think to look in a room where I am! Come along!"

She waved enthusiastically and left the room. China shrugged at Germany and followed after her. He wasn't sure what she wanted, but Germany didn't want to be left alone. He followed reluctantly, all the way down the corridor and into a cosy room at the end. Ukraine plopped herself down on the sofa and waved them in. China made himself at home and she turned to the horror channel.

"Why are we watching this?" Germany frowned. "Ukraine, you are aware that people have gone missing, aren't you?"

"Hmm?" she looked at him, confused, before determination realisation formed a smile on her face. "If that's a ploy to make give away any locations of hiding places, it's not going to work! Russia's always been very good at finding hiding places. I don't know how he does it."

"Practice from Belarus," China muttered as Germany sat beside him.

The door opened and Latvia peered in. "Miss Ukraine, would you like something to eat or drink?" he asked, only to look surprised to see both China and Germany with her.

"I would love tea, please, Latvia," she smiled. "You wouldn't mind getting our guests some cups, too, as well as some little chocolates we can eat for our films!"

"Not a problem," he replied and closed the door.

Germany watched him go anxiously. Perhaps he should've gone with the poor boy? Anyone, for all he knew, was a target.

* * *

Meanwhile, Russia had grown the balls to leave the safety of the room he'd trapped himself in. He peered out both sides of the corridor and then deemed it safe to leave his haven. He closed the door behind him and entered the hallways, cold and vast, suddenly endless despite this being his own home. His aim to reach the east wing bathroom was once again rekindled.

With measured steps, he began making his way down the hallway. It wasn't like he had to walk far to make it to the east wing. The problem was that he had to walk past the main staircase, which meant that, if Belarus was still awake, there was a chance he could encounter her and that would only add to the problems that were already piling on his plate.

As he reached the main hall, he made sure to cautiously check she wasn't prowling the area before passing through. Upon seeing the empty hallway, Russia began his quick, but quiet dash across the expanse, eager to get back to the east wing hallway, where there were rooms he could dart into and hide within if the need became necessary.

"Russia?" Belarus' voice echoed from upstairs and his entire body froze. "You better not be hiding in your room. I hate it when you lock the door and-" There was a fierce tugging at a door handle. "-this door is locked. Russia? Are you in there?"

Steeling his courage, Russia hurried across the room, his footsteps muffled by the rug laid down on the floor. The most awkward thing that could happen was if he tripped; however, this was not so and he safely reached the other side.

"Don't make me go and get the crowbar from the garage, Russia," Belarus threatened from upstairs. "Open the door and we'll both save time of me breaking another one."

Russia swallowed and cursed quietly, his soft whisper extremely loud in his ears, although he was sure Belarus wouldn't have heard him, since she was upstairs and also making a lot of noise attempting to break the door down. There seemed to be no more shouts from Belarus, but Russia still almost ran down the east wing hallway, making a sharp turn at the corner and running straight for the bathroom that had ensured Italy's disappearance. He slowed his pace dramatically as he neared and turned on the lights, looking inside the bathroom.

Lithuania was not there. Then again, he couldn't be, otherwise Russia would've noticed him leave for the east wing earlier. Russia had to assume he had been taken by the attacker, as had Italy and whoever had been screaming beforehand. As Russia stood in the bathroom, he couldn't help but feel that Belarus may have been involved with the disappearances. Whilst she was obsessive, he never would have thought she'd take things this far. Upon the arrival of his guests, she had been edgier and her manner towards them had been far from kind. All pointed towards her; the screaming had even happened upstairs and, soon afterwards, Belarus' voice, calling out for him. He swallowed at the thought of his sister disposing of the bodies of her victims, until all that was left was him. It could not be Belarus. Whilst some people were still wandering around, he could easily live in satisfied denial.

The bathroom was immaculate. There were no signs of Italy having been there. Russia paused, wondering if Italy had wandered off and gotten himself lost. Whilst he was not so ignorant as to deny the existence of someone in his house committing these crimes, even if it was Belarus, he was sure that there was still a chance that Italy had been lost and  _then_ attacked. The bathroom showed no signs of a struggle, and there were no hints of Italy having ever been there. Russia turned and left the bathroom, his search suddenly seeming wasted.

"Oh,  _Russia_ , I'm getting the  _crowbar_ ," Belarus' voice rang from around the corner.

He held his breath and slipped into the nearest room, closing the door silently behind him and crouching in the corner behind a chair, keeping the lights off. He heard her footsteps as she passed by the room, on her way to the garage, but decided to keep himself hidden rather than face her. It would be best if he allowed her to roam back to the floor above so he could continue to effectively explore the ground floor. Russia decided to remain firmly planted within the room he took comfort from, remaining completely still but fearing the moment the door was pushed open and Belarus peered round.

* * *

America and England had the new mission to go the garage. Although its exact location remained unknown to them, they were both determined to see what was in the lobby. England wanted to find a way into the lobby, hoping there might be some kind of aerial system that would allow them to contact outside powers. He was aware that the attacker may have been Belarus and that Russia would probably be displeased to see his sister under attack from many vengeful nations; that was one reason why he wanted to locate Russia. He wanted to negotiate Belarus' punishment without waging war with either Russia or Ukraine. America, on the other hand, wanted to find Russia and, strangely,  _save_ him from Belarus and be the hero.

The two of them descended the stairs into the main entrance hall. There were no sounds coming from anywhere. The house was suddenly safe, although England always ensured to check over his shoulder, since America was more set on heading towards the east wing. They had decided to check around the dining room in order to find the kitchen and then, through that, the garage.

Turning into the hallway, they saw Estonia closing a door tiredly. He raised his head and walked past, ignoring their questioning gazes. England narrowed his eyes, but then approached the door once Estonia was out of sight.

The room was a library, as revealed when he turned the lights on. Tall bookshelves stood like a manmade forest. Without saying a word, England began to desperately searching amongst the bookshelves in the hopes of finding something. Estonia's suspicious behaviour had made him wary. He reached the back of the room, America not far behind, glancing at a book he randomly selected from the shelf.

Suddenly, the room went dark and England heard the thud of a book hit the floor. He darted forwards and reached out, his fingers finding the fabric of America's jacket.

"Is that you, dude?" America whispered roughly.

"Yes," he replied awkwardly, and then started heading towards the door, keeping a firm grip on America's arm. "I think someone just left this room."

He opened the door and looked up and down the corridor. The rug outside was uneven and wrinkled, having been disturbed by hurried footsteps. However, it was unclear as to where they had gone, exactly. England narrowed his eyes, but the rug was only pushed towards the door, where someone had hurried to leave. He glanced at America, who closed the door behind them and offered a shrug. Shaking his head, he walked back to the dining room, which was strangely lit by the main lights.

"Someone's definitely been here," he stated.

He turned off the lights and they walked out into the hallway. At the end of the hallway, they noticed someone walking out of a door.

"Hey, you!" America barked, racing towards their direction.

The person jumped and turned, bracing themselves for impact, but England yanked America back as hard as he could.

"You wanker!" he scolded "That's Latvia, not some random attacker. Latvia, do you think you could tell me where the garage is?"

"The garage?" the boy looked dubious. "Why do you want to know?"

England found it strange how secretive the members of Russia's household were, but allowed it to slide. "We need a ladder to get into the loft. We want to check if the attacker's in there."

"The... 'attacker'?" Latvia appeared confused.

"I don't know if you've noticed, but people have gone missing," England explained calmly. "We don't know what's happened, but considering the second person has disappeared by now, we doubt they both got lost."

He didn't want to frighten the boy with tales of France's agonised screams, so chose not to delve further into the subject.

Latvia seemed to consider for a moment, but then frowned up at them. "Just through this door beside me is a corridor. Go to the end and a door to the right will lead you to the kitchen. Walk straight through and you will find the pantry. If you go to the left side of the room, you'll find the garage door. Good luck."

He turned with his tray of tea and chocolates and, although England had sudden craving a for a hot beverage, now was not the time. He followed Latvia's instructions, turning down the corridor, with America close behind him.

* * *

After drinking the tea Latvia had brought, Germany needed the toilet, but was reluctant to go alone. He had even insisted Latvia remain in the room with them afterwards to prevent anything happening to him. He voiced his needs.

"Go, then," China said, eyes glued to the screen.

"I don't want to go alone," Germany admitted, feeling stupid for saying so. "It's bad to split up."

"I can go with you and wait outside?" Latvia offered. "I don't mind."

"Oh, thank you," he replied.

The pair of them travelled down the silent hallway until they reached the fated bathroom. Germany stepped into the bright, white room and closed the door behind him, leaving Latvia waiting alone outside.


	9. Chapter 9

**Russia had heard a lot of commotion upon entering the room.** He'd remained hidden behind his chair, refusing to leave or look up as the lights were flicked on and off, for fear or raising his head too high and risk being caught by Belarus. There had been a lot of scuffling, some faraway whispers, then the room had gone completely dark and he'd been left alone. He was too frightened to leave the room. He would much rather stay in the dark. Belarus was still out there, and he could even hear footsteps outside the room. Somebody was out there. Russia held his breath. If he could have it his way, he would remain on that spot for the rest of the night.

He could still hear footsteps nearby, but they were more distant and indicated someone was still in the hallway. He feared Belarus was opting for the "wait Russia out" tactic, so he bowed his head between his knees and squeezed his eyes shut, willing the night to pass and for the day to bring blissful salvation to him.

* * *

Germany wandered out of the bathroom to see Latvia still standing where he had left him. The boy was idly tapping his foot on the ground, but raised his head as Germany left the bathroom.

"Oh, good, you're still here," he said. "I wondered, but it seems the attacker is not on this side of the building."

"Just as well," Latvia said. "I'm not sure I'd be able to fight back if someone attacked me. Mr Russia's loving, affectionate nature has prevented me from growing big and strong like most others my age."

"What?" Germany looked at him. 'Loving' and 'affectionate' were hardly words he would use to describe Russia.

Latvia glanced around, as if expecting Russia to be nearby, and then leant closer. "He puts his hand on my head and crushes my cranium. No oxygen can get there so I can't think and I believe the deprivation has prevented me getting taller and bigger. I say it's his affectionate nature to his face, but it really hurts!"

Germany wasn't sure how to respond to that. Prussia was a disastrous brother, playing tricks on him and constantly mocking him, but that's what he expected from an older brother. From afar, he had always wondered whether Latvia and Russia shared a similar brotherly relationship, but now he wasn't so sure.

"I hope Ukraine and China are well," he changed the subject swiftly. "I would hate for them to suffer at the hands of this mystery attacker."

Latvia nodded, swallowing, and the pair of them wandered to the end of the hallway where China and Ukraine had been watching TV. As they neared, Germany could hear the screams of the horror film on full volume as well as the ambiance to accompany them. He entered the room and froze in the doorway, Latvia walking into him.

"What is it, Mr Germany?" Latvia asked, sounding concerned.

"Damn," he cursed and allowed Latvia a view of the room. "They've both disappeared. They barely even managed to drink their tea and eat their chocolates. That's assuming neither passed you by."

"No, actually," Latvia looked surprised. "You reckon the attacker got them?"

"Of course," Germany looked guarded and then checked the time.

His watch read it was quarter to ten. There was still too much time before he met with the others. However, it was just him and Latvia. They were vulnerable to attack. If he went to the west wing, there was a chance he would encounter England, America and France. His two comrades had vanished and he wasn't about to let Latvia out of his sight at this stage.

"We're going to the west wing," he announced. "There we have a chance of finding the other three. We need to make battle plans and seek out our attacker. It's no longer a case of finding the others, I'm afraid."

"O-OK, Mr Germany," Latvia sounded afraid.

Germany turned and saw the boy shaking a little with fear.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Is it possible that Mr Russia is behind these disappearances?" he asked. "Whenever I've said something he doesn't like, he stretches me."

" _Stretches_ you?" Germany heard alarm bells ringing in his head. "He turns to these acts of violence frequently?"

Latvia shifted from foot to foot. "Only if I say something he doesn't like to hear. He hates us mentioning America. He doesn't even answer if we mention that name, just falls silent and gives us that awful smile. I once hid this really ugly coat of his from sight, thinking it was old and disgusting and long out of use, but it turned out he wears it frequently and almost all the time. But it was so  _ugly_ , Mr Germany, that when he said it was brand new, I almost died of fear and horror. Why would you buy something so nasty? It was too late for me to take back my words, though, because I'd already called it 'too hideous for plain sight'."

"And he... stretched you?" Germany frowned.

"Yes," the boy answered. "I know stretching is supposed to make you taller, but I don't think Mr Russia stretches me out of the goodness of his heart, especially when he's crushing my head and spine later in the day."

Germany laid a hand on the boy's shoulder. "No need to worry, Latvia. If Russia really is the one behind these disappearances, myself and the others will handle this. Just stay by me."

Latvia glanced at Germany's hand on his shoulder and seemed comforted by it. He nodded towards the older nation and the pair of them left the horror film running and headed towards the west wing.

* * *

Russia heard more footsteps outside, but then the house was plunged back into silence. He waited just a little longer, before rising to his feet and treading his way carefully past the bookshelves and to the door. He took a long breath before opening the door and then glanced both ways down the corridor. It was still empty.

He breathed a sigh of relief, only to hear something in the distance. It sounded like music from the end of the hallway. Cautiously, Russia wandered down, keeping an ear out for Belarus' voice, until eventually he reached the end of the hallway.

One of the room's doors was left wide open.

Russia felt a cold chill pass through him. Swallowed, he looked inside and saw a film playing on the TV. The room was empty. There was tea and chocolates sitting there. He lifted a chocolate and ate it.

"Russia! Those were for the guests!"

He jumped and turned to see Ukraine standing in the doorway. Her face melted into a smile at the sight of him. Russia braced himself as she launched herself and enveloped him in one of her trademark hugs. Behind her back, he stuffed another two chocolates in his mouth.

"Oh, they're both gone," Ukraine commented, looking a little put out. "And China looked so comfortable..."

"Schina wushere wishoo-mm," he swallowed the chocolates. "China was here?"

"Yeah," she beamed. "He and Germany were here not long ago. Germany went to the bathroom with Latvia about ten minutes ago, and I was here with China. What? What's that look in your eyes, Russia?"

"Nothing," he stepped away from his sister, his stomach performing flips. "I need to find them, though. I passed the bathroom on my way here and neither Germany nor Latvia was there. Just stay in this room, though, OK? Because I think there's someone in the house."

"Someone in the house?" she looked at him oddly. It was an expression Russia had never seen in her eyes before and it unsettled him.

"Yeah," he swallowed and backed out of the room. "Just stay in here, OK?"

He closed the door and stared at it. There was no sound of movement from within the room, but the horror channel continued playing. Russia stood there, contemplating the circumstances. Belarus had looked suspicious before, but now he was sure that was just her usual behaviour. On the other hand, there was Ukraine. Both China and Germany, and possibly Latvia, had vanished beneath her care.

Russia felt all the more cold as he vacantly walked down the hallway. He didn't want to think Ukraine was behind the abductions. He wanted to pretend his agricultural sister was an innocent as she seemed. He pulled his scarf closer around his face, hugged his coat to himself and continued down that cold, unforgiving hallway.

Suddenly, in the far distance, Russia heard horrified yells. They weren't female, and perhaps not even human. That was perhaps his paranoia, though. The noises were coming from behind him, from the depths of his home. Russia tore down the hallway, away from the terror, not wanting to face the facts...

* * *

America found the cramped little corridor leading to the kitchen to be the most uncomfortable place in the house. He was sure there was a distant wailing or shouting coming from somewhere, but he didn't want to think their enemy was an old Russian ghost invoking revenge against those who weren't connected to Russia.

They found the kitchen exactly where Latvia told them it would be. The first thing America did was check the fridge. Raiding it of anything sweet and fizzy, he turned to see England glaring at him disapprovingly.

"What?" he groaned. "Even heroes need drink breaks..."

He slurped on the soda whilst England located a little door at the back of the kitchen leading to the pantry and, through that, the garage. This was the place they needed to be in order to get their precious ladder. England opened the door into the dark room. A crack of light slid into the room and- wait. The lights were already on. The room was just dim, not dark.

England swallowed. "Hello?" he called out uncertainly.

"Dude, why did you do that?" America hissed. "It could be the attacker."

England glanced at him sceptically. They had both seen Estonia's suspicious behaviour from earlier.

"Who is it?" Belarus called and stepped out of the garage rubble, a large, dusty crowbar held in between her hands. "Oh, the Westerners! How nice that we should come across one another."

America felt the soda slip from his hand and crash to the ground, soda spilling out across the ground. Belarus didn't look especially impressed by that.

"Not only that, but you're the American dickface that torments big brother Russia so," she scowled and tapped the crowbar against one palm. "The moment he organised this whole thing, I've hated every moment of it. I knew it was a bad idea. The very sight of you sickens me."

"Sickens you enough that you would dispose of all others?" America blurted out, half hiding behind England.

Belarus' head tilted eerily to the side and her cold, dark blue eyes settled on him. "I really want to dispose of  _you_ right now."

"Blood hell, we were wrong!" England took a step back. "It was Belarus this whole time!"

"Let's get the heck outta here!" America cried and stumbled backwards.

Belarus swung the corridor to the side. It crashed into several toolboxes, sending them tumbling to the ground where nails and screwdrivers and other equipment scattered across the floor.

America raced back through the pantry, England not far from his heels, and Belarus not far behind them.

"I'll kill you for how you've treated my precious love and brother," she howled.

"Bollocks!" England wailed. "I say we find Germany and the others and just  _leave_ this place."

"We can't abandon France and Italy, though," America replied. "We need that ladder."

"I'm not going back in there," he felt England's glare on the back of his head.

"Why don't you pussies stop running and accept you're on Russia's turf now?" she demanded. "Russia's house, Russia's rules, and I'm here to make sure Russia is happy. Getting rid of you will make Russia  _very_ happy."

_So he_ is _behind it all!_ America through as he sprinted out into the corridor.  _Russia's little sister is only doing what he commands. The bastard was behind it this whole time!_

"We won't make it!" England yelled, throwing himself out into the hallway.

Spinning on his heel, America slammed the entrance shut and bolted the door in place. It shook as Belarus threw herself against the door and howled like a furious she-wolf. America staggered backwards and fell to the ground, staring at the bolted door.

"I'll find you both," Belarus threatened. "I'll find you and then big brother Russia will be happy."

"She's insane," England whispered, chest rising and falling in fear from the whole thing. "I say we just leave."

"We can't," America gaped. "There's a storm out there. We're trapped."

"Oh, no, I remember now," England moaned and held his head in his hands. "This is the worst. This is truly the worst. How are we supposed to get into the attic at this point?"

"We'll either have to find another way into the garage, or another way into the attic," America shuddered.

England straightened up, and then frowned. "No, I've got a plan. We need to set up a decoy of some sort. That way, we can sneak past her."

America looked at his English speaking ally. "You really  _are_ away with the fairies..."


	10. Chapter 10

**Russia returned to his study.** It was the only place he felt safe in his current state and he wasn't able to admit he'd been a coward and had abandoned whoever had been screaming. He ran his hands through his hair and then picked up a family picture of himself with his sisters.

It had been taken when cameras had been popularised in the early 1910s. He recalled Anastasia Romanov introducing photographic self-portraits to him. He had excitedly gathered his sisters in front of a large, full body mirror, standing in the middle as he took the photo of all three of them. It wasn't an especially incredible photo, although Ukraine looked nice, standing beside him with a brilliant smile on her face. Belarus was always frowning, clinging to his waist. As for Russia himself, he was deadpan, more concentrated on  _taking_ the photo rather than posing for it. It was taken during a time when he felt far freer, less restricted by the rising tensions in Europe and the gradually increasing pressures being placed upon him by his Bosses.

He swivelled on his chair. He had always thought it more likely that Belarus would be the one to abduct people. Ukraine seemed too vulnerable herself to do that, since she was a cry-baby. He stared at the photo. Something wasn't right. Why would Ukraine do that to any of the guests?

He leant his head back and stared at the ceiling. Where was she when Italy went missing? Belarus had visited them around the time of his disappearance, but there had been no sign of Ukraine. They had gone to the west wing to play their game of truth or dare, Belarus had been there not long after them, and Ukraine had remained in the east wing, where Italy would've been, as far as he was concerned. Judging on the amount of time it would've taken to walk between the bathroom Italy disappeared in and the lounge Russia had gathered everyone in, Belarus couldn't possibly have abducted Italy.

Russia raised his hands to his face and stared into space, horrified by the truth that laid before him. Ukraine was the last person to have seen both China and Germany. He hadn't encountered any of the others. The house had seemed empty as the day had progressed. Slowly, one by one, people had been disappearing underneath his nose. He had barely seen Ukraine all day. It was likely that she was picking them one by one, disposing of them and he had been unaware this entire time.

"Oh, no," Russia inhaled a juddering, deep breath. "Oh, no..."

This couldn't be happening. Who was even left? Was it just him? What were Ukraine's plans, her motives? Was he next?

Russia wondered if Ukraine's Boss has put her up to this, given it was beyond her typical character. However, the attacks on the European countries worried him. He stood, determined to find some of the others, hoping the agonised yells he'd heard earlier weren't the last of his potential comrades being taken down by his older sister.

Russia laid the photo on its face, grimacing as he did so, and left the safety of his study, back into the dark, cold hallways.

* * *

America and England had travelled to the floor above, knowing Belarus wasn't likely to encounter them at this stage. England's plan was intricate and needed precious time to be conducted. He didn't want America messing this up, so he ensured to speak very clearly to him and make sure he knew exactly what they were doing.

The plan was this. America conveniently was close in trading with Japan and therefore had a lot of new technology. He had a set of two portable radios that he claimed were under strict development. He called them "walkie talkies", which England thought sounded ridiculous. It was like a phone that could be carried around, a truly wild concept. Since they had two, the idea was to plant one walkie talkie in one of the rooms at the crossroads of the staircase. England and America would talk into the device, pretending to be lost. In theory, Belarus would head towards the sound of their voices and, whilst she was preoccupied with that, they would sneak around from the other side and head back down to the garage.

However, there was more to it than that. England laid the second walkie talkie in the upstairs hallway that he and America wouldn't be in. He ensured it was hidden from plain sight, with he and America mussing the carpet so that she would follow it as planned. The walkie talkie would act as a timer, as its volume was turned to the loudest. America contacted England's walkie talkie- it had a limitless proximity, as far as England was concerned- and he answered.

"Now, we leave my walkie talkie here," England muttered mainly to himself as he hid the device behind some curtains. "If I leave it on its face, with pressure on the microphone, we'll be able to hear all the sounds that come from it through America's... When we hear her footsteps, that's when we know to make our move."

America nodded, keeping a firm hold on his own walkie talkie's recording system. England could hear his heavy breaths as he placed his device in the corner of a room at the back of the hallway, which gave them around two minutes to escape before Belarus realised what was happening. It was a risky plan, but if executed correctly, England was certain it would work. He and America hurried upstairs.

The placement of the walkie talkie was thus vital. England decided his own walkie talkie would be hidden in the back of a cupboard, difficult to find. The volume was turned to the loudest, to ensure that Belarus would hear them through the walkie talkie, rather than in person. They would be hidden down a different hallway. When they heard Belarus enter the room, they would pretend to hush down. In reality, America would turn off his own walkie talkie's recording feature and the two of them would escape. England had to guess Belarus' lethal crowbar was intended to open Russia's bedroom door, which was located around this area of the house. They had checked each room on the left side and had been pleased to discover that one of the rooms on the end had been open. It had been someone's bedroom, but they hadn't known whose. This was the exact room in which England's walkie talkie would be placed. Belarus would have to walk all the way up to the end of the corridor, hopefully wanting to surprise them, which gave the  _actual_ England and America time to swiftly flee down the stairs.

This was where England hoped the phone's placement would also benefit them. Belarus loved her brother Russia; that much was evident. He felt bad for leaving him at the hands of his psychopath sister, but England hoped Belarus would rather stay and finish the job she had started, rather than come after them. With a double distraction, England believed getting to the garage would be easier than originally thought. He desperately hoped the plan would run as smoothly in reality as it did in his head.

They ducked into a room near the end of the hallway on the right side, upstairs, and crouched down behind the door. America held his walkie talkie close between them, and the pair of them concentrated on breathing as quietly as possible. It was the only time that America seemed able to keep his mouth shut, as they listened out into the darkness, and England was thankful.

* * *

Russia stood in the west wing, the empty halls his only companion. In that moment, he felt like a child again, faced with only snow and only General Winter, around the time when Prussia attacked and made his life a misery. He shivered from the lonely memories, suppressed them with an anxious smile and wonderment as to where his 'friends', if he could even call them that at this point, had disappeared to.

Walking two doors down, Russia slipped a key out of one of his gloves and opened the armoury. Swinging open the door, he found himself met with the one room he hated most. Lined upon the walls were the murderers of Russian history. Bardiches were seen hanging from the walls, spiked balls, threatening maces, swords, knives, and then the gun evolution that eventually raised its ugly head.

Carefully, he turned on the lights and locked the door behind him, choosing not to be jumped from behind. Heading to the back of the room, Russia assessed the wall that had the most recent guns.

The first thing he decided was that he would use no incendiaries, grenades, mines or rocket launchers. He was only turning to this not to burn or blow up his house, but to prevent any more damage being committed. If he was to guard himself, he needed something quick to handle, rather than any power guns. Therefore, the RPK-47, PK and Kord were out of the question. If he had to choose something, then it would be a considerably smaller handgun. Whilst automatics and semi-automatics were nice every now and then, he would need a much faster aim than the AK-47 or AK-12. That led him to two choices of preference. The Makarov, and the MP-443 Grach. The Makarov was probably one of the most common and basic pistols to handle and, whilst the Grach was cool, it was not 'cool' that he needed right now.

He lifted the Makarov from where it lay on a table near the wall. Lifting several nine by eighteen millimetre Makarov bullets, he assessed the gun, but then instantly laid it back in place. There was no way he could shoot his sister. Russia abandoned the idea of using any guns and fled the armoury. Instead, he pulled his beloved faucet from his cloak and looked at in in determination.

"The magical stick will just have to settle this conflict," he muttered to himself, locking the door behind him once more.

* * *

There was a hollow crash in the far distance, where America and England sat hunched in their room. Instantly, America pressed the button to speak, setting the plan into motion.

"What are you doing?" England hissed, turning his face away from the walkie talkie. "We haven't heard enough."

"We won't need to," America stood. "That was her breaking down the bolted door and storming this way."

Peering briefly out into the hallway, the two of them could hear thunderous footsteps in the distance. America scuttled back into hiding, as England worriedly hurried after him, and the pair ducked down to mutter fake plans of head down the fake corridor. From where they sat, even they could hear the other walkie talkie, which was a good sign. He didn't want to risk Belarus finding them so easily. Hearing them talking was twice, in a creepy out of body experience way.

England dared not watch, but rather just listen. He kept his eyes closed, speaking quietly and hearing the softest sounds of Belarus' footsteps on the stairs as she approached their panicked voices as they 'discussed' what course of action they should take. What if she heard  _them_ , and not the other walkie talkie? He finally dared himself to peer through the crack in the door and watched her turn down the other corridor.

Motioning silently, he pushed open the door and snuck away towards the stairs. He hesitated, making sure Belarus wasn't lingering, and then made for the stairs as quickly and quietly as possible. He could hear America behind him, telling the walkie talkie to stop talking, as they'd heard footsteps. After that, he muted the one he held. Although they were being incredibly quiet, England still had fears that Belarus had the hearing of a bat, and would come surging after them in a matter of seconds.

They reached the bottom of the stairs. America exhaled quietly and England also released a breath he didn't realise he'd been holding. Nodding to his closest ally, England returned down the corridor where their prize awaited them.

"I really hope there's actually a ladder there," America whispered.

England nodded, too anxious to speak for fear of Belarus somehow hearing them, even at this distance. They returned safely to the wretched bathroom and onwards to the point where Latvia had shown them. The door they'd bolted in place only fifteen or so minutes ago was splintered and torn down. America paled but England, in his determination to survive, even if it meant  _living_ in Russia's  _attic_ , pressed forwards. He could hear the distant moans of something probably dangerous, or the creaking of the house and, from America's jittery attitude, he guessed his comrade also heard the noises.

He opened the garage door once they'd moved cautiously through the kitchen and the pantry. The room remained dimly lit with tools scattered across the ground from Belarus' destructive personality. Fitting into the garage setting, England raised his head and saw a folded up ladder strapped to the ceiling. America followed his gaze and a smile broke out across his face.

"We did it!" he cried.

"Shut up, wanker!" England hissed. "This house echoes. How do we get that down?"

"There should be some kind of stool here," America said.

"How about we just use the toolbox?" England rolled his eyes. "It's big enough anyway."

America nodded and set the tool box beneath the ladder. As he climbed on, England watched their designated stool sag a little under his weight. He needed to remember it was made from plastic that wasn't necessarily designed to support human weight. However, it held, much to his relief, as America started unstrapping the ladder.

"Just one question," America said as he made progress on their salvation. "How do we get the ladder to the attic?"

"Bollocks," England cursed and ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know, America, but with great fucking effort, I suppose."

America glanced at him with a sad expression. Just as he'd believed they'd almost reached their goal, their last hurdle seemed to stand ten metres high. There was also the fact that, having been deceived by them, Belarus wasn't going to like them at all...


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The more I write this, the more I realise just how terrible some of the clichés I used were, aha! I also seem to have had a _huge_ thing for cliffhangers. I don't know if that's still the case with some of my more recent works, but it's still pretty funny reading back on things I've previously written.
> 
> On another note, the amount of mobile phones I've had to edit out of this fic. Apparently, 2015 XOs believed mobile phones with recording systems were around in the early 1900s. This fact is only worsened when I dwell on the fact that I was studying History at the time when writing this.

**America had managed to get the ladder down, at the cost of Russia's toolbox, which finally collapsed when he went on tiptoes to get the last of the ladder down.** The ladder had slid down, almost taking England's eye out, which had not made him happy in the slightest, only to clatter to the ground. Panicked, the pair had fallen silent, not wanting to speak or do anything. There seemed to be no noises afterwards to indicate that anyone was out there.

Carefully, a two man team, England and America handled the ladder through the corridor. It was suddenly strangely quiet, all sound having vanished. The moans or creaks were gone. Beforehand, England would have found the silence comforting, but right now, it was deafening.

"Dude, we're seriously late," America commented as they walked, and England took a chance to check his watch.

It read ten thirty-five. "You're right. We were supposed to meet the other three at the meeting point by now."

"You don't think Belarus would have gotten them?" America sounded scared, but he was faced away, so England couldn't see his expression.

"I don't if Germany would... really, and truly, America, I don't think they're there," England sighed.

America stopped instantly in his tracks and turned to England, blue eyes wide and strangely blazing with sudden anger.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

England met his gaze levelly. "I mean, good chap, we should have seen them. In about the space of forty minutes, we've covered both the bottom  _and_ the top of the east wing. The east wing was supposed to be where Germany and the other two were searching. We've encountered none of them since the moment we split up. They're not here, America."

"What if they went to the west wing?" America asked.

"Would you listen to me, dammit?" England laid his half of the ladder down and glared at America. "Germany would have purposefully sought us out. He would have contacted us. He wouldn't have listlessly wandered down the hallways in search of us. Germany is competent, as are China and Japan. They're gone, America.  _It's just us_."

America's face was ashen and he suddenly turned, striding down the hallway with an unspoken purpose.

"Where in the blazes are you going?" England demanded, following after him. "We can't split up and we can't leave the ladder."

He watched America stand in the hallway, staring at the entrance as well as down the western wing. From here, they had a full view of most of the house and, yet, no sign of Germany. It was like calling someone, only for the phone to ring, and ring, and ring, with no answer.

"They're not here," America whispered.

"He's a loud kraut, so you might have heard him," England muttered.

"I haven't, though," America lowered his eyes to stare at his hands.

"That's because Germany's  _not there_ ," England frowned. "America, I'm sorry, but-"

"We should've just stayed as  _one big group_ ," America ranted, curling his hands into fists. "Why the hell did we split up in the first place?"

"To cover more of Russia's house," England muttered.

"Whose idea was it anyway?" he demanded. "Because it was a pretty crap decision!"

"It was  _your_ idea," England snapped and watched America's face fall. "Yes, that's right. It was  _your_ idea, and the rest of us just went with it."

"You should have stopped me like you usually do!" America blurted out, his voice echoing down the hallway. "You should have done something. You should have told me I was being an idiot. You should have rolled your eyes and rallied the public opinion against mine. You should have-"

"Yes, I should've bloody ignore you, but I didn't, did I?" England said, frustrated.

"They're gone, England," America threw up his hands in exasperation, staring down the empty hallway where they should've seen the second group waiting for them. " _They're gone_. Someone has Germany and the others, and I can tell you that  _it's not someone we like_. And whose decision was it to weaken our numbers? It was  _mine_. And why did I do that? Because it sounded cool, and I wanted to be the hero. My own decisions have caused the deaths of some of our closest allies. How can I live with that?"

"Well, you can't kill yourself," England said, unsure but recalling America still had his gun on his person.

"No, and I'm not going to," America shoved the phone in England's hands and strode past. "I'm going to make things right. I'm going to make the change that counts. I didn't earn my freedom just to send the people most important to me to the  _grave_ , I earned it to show my strength as an independent nation and now look at me."

England turned, the phone still in his hand, to see America standing in the middle of the hallway, facing away, his hands clenched in tight fists.

"America-"

"You're not getting left behind," America said. "A hero never leaves  _anyone_ behind. Especially not the first person in his life. The teacher is always valued and you've taught me so much I know, England. You raised me up and, although you didn't have the strength to put me down when we fought, we've had highlights and you're the one in my childhood memories. If there's anyone I need at my side at the moment, then it's you, because that's what I've always wanted. I've always wanted to stand side by side and see the world you viewed, and I want to keep seeing that world with you. It doesn't end here. We'll take the ladder to the attic, even if it means using force to get Belarus out of the way, we'll get a signal from the highest point of the building and we'll get every freaking nation we know to come here and get us the hell out!"

Suddenly, he turned towards England with a grin and a spark in his eyes, a new life rejuvenated.

"I might be headstrong with all this talk," he beamed. "But I don't just  _look_ the hero, I  _am_ the hero. And the hero always wins."

"America," England swallowed, trying not to feel touched. "America... I... let's just do this."

He strode past the idiot and lifted his end of the ladder. He waited, but nothing happened. He raised his head and saw America smiling at him.

"What?" he said indignantly.

"Nothing," America smiled and lifted his end of the ladder. "Let's just do this."

They both froze at the sound of a distant squeaking, like the sound of a crowbar being dragged across the floor. America's eyes widened and he looked at England.

"We'll hide for now," England returned his previous smile. "Belarus should check the garage. That's when we make our-"

"Oh, hello, you two," Ukraine walked out of the bathroom. "What are you doing with the ladder?"

"We're hiding from Belarus," England said, an idea forming. "Is it possible we could hide in your room with you and you could send her to the west wing?"

Ukraine rubbed her chin and then smiled mischievously at them both. "Sounds good to me..."

* * *

Russia held the faucet in his hands. He had been checking every room thoroughly, just to make sure no one was hiding in them. There appeared to be no signs of anyone crouching and he also encountered no one in the hallway. He desperately wished Lithuania was there. He hated being alone. It was just so... lonely.

Russia paused before the last room of the west wing and pushed open the door with fond familiarity. He entered into the lounge where everything had gone wrong. It was exactly as he'd left it when he'd locked them in.

"I was only trying to do the right thing," he murmured as he walked into the room.

He saw the gun and vodka bottle from when they'd played Russian Roulette. Sighing, he seated himself on the floor and picked them both up. Everything had been so wonderful then.

The gun reminded him of their instantly horrified expressions when it had seemed he was going to have them all killed in a dangerous game. The vodka? He laughed out loud a little when he recalled how pissed England had become and how he's missed dinner because of it.

"I miss them all," he realised, and put the gun down, frowning.

Each of them had their own special quirks and, whilst they sometimes irritated him, there were times when they were the most wonderful people he knew.

China could sometimes annoy him with his constant self-serving business nature, but when he dived from the plane, believing the snow would cushion his fall and broke his back as a result, it was China who had stayed with him, had made sure he'd reached safety, and have even stayed at his house to make sure he lived, as well as helping Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania recover his health when he had that tragic fever, just because he'd been passing by at the time. China, beneath the layers of business, was a really nice guy.

Germany had no sense of humour and could be brutally harsh, but Russia could understand his present nature, since he'd been entirely blamed for World War One when, actually, by the time the whole thing had become a blown out mess, everyone was to blame at some point. Germany was also sensible and rational, and it was nice that he hadn't wanted to think that he, Russia, had abducted Italy when the horrors had begun.

Italy was a pathetic little so and so, but he was too scared to  _not_ be Russia's friend and he had never caused any harm to him.

Japan was quiet and rather reclusive when he didn't need to be, but Russia couldn't blame him because of his hatred of physical contact. His love for cats was also endearing and, although they'd never properly moved beyond 1905, Russia honestly thought there was nothing seriously wrong with Japan.

France was weird and perverted and, whilst Russia wouldn't leave him alone in a room with his sisters, he was funny and daring, and his confidence was something Russia admired. France had given him the adrenaline rush and strength to actually knock on Belarus' door in the first place, but he'd also had the responsibility of having caused distressed and had been adult enough to take the blame. Russia missed his odd habits and comments, as well as the behaved figure he could sometimes look up to.

England was the worst cook Russia had ever met and would probably ever meet, and whilst every time he served you a meal it was the equivalent of an attempted assassination through poisoning, Russia couldn't blame the man for being a hopeless chef. His rude cusses were always placed at the right time and, although Russia felt he laughed  _at_ England rather than  _with_ him, there was just that level of amusement that brought him certain joy.

And then there was America. America, Russia's greatest enemy, and the only person he hated hearing being mentioned. The very sound of his name sometimes reduced him to enraged silence that he had to bottle up in desperation not to do something crazy and the guy himself drove him round the wall with his constant hamburgers and democratic republican views. He was obnoxious and acted like a child, and also never invited Russia to his supposedly amazing Christmas parties, which Russia pretended never bothered him, but actually, sitting in front of the fire alone without even having received an invite really hurt, because America purposely excluded him. He was the most annoying person Russia had ever had the grace of meeting; he was the only person Russia  _didn't_ mind being on bad terms with.

However, he was also the hero character. He was 'Murica! The life of the party! The get-go, outgoing, lively, laidback, slightly naive, constantly jovial, confident guy who could always be relied on to make the mood more comfortable if things became awkward. He was one of the strongest of the nations and, although he was never shy to execute his strength, his closeness with a nation was really emphasised when he was friends with them. He was Russia's antithesis; he had all the friends, he had the wonderful sunny weather, he had the ability to speak out and say exactly what he was thinking and he had normal siblings and people he could consider family. He had a community that he was part of and there were times when Russia was able to work alongside him perfectly fine, especially when they were against the Axis Powers. America was that one guy that you couldn't  _always_ hate. He was America, the USA and, right now, he was probably long gone, wiped out like a candle at the hands of Ukraine.

Russia downed the rest of the vodka bottle and stood with newfound determination. This needed to end and it needed to end now.


	12. Chapter 12

**England and America carefully laid the ladder down on the floor.** Ukraine had sent them to this room and had continued to pretend to be in the bathroom for the sake of sending Belarus away. England noticed the tea and chocolates on the table. The tea looked cold, but his lack of dinner was suddenly alerted to a rumbling stomach.

America gave him a look. "How are you hungry? We ate dinner just two and a bit hours ago..."

"I wasn't there, remember?" he scowled. "I also restrained myself when you were raiding Russia's fridge because I have basic manners."

"Whatever," America sat down on the sofa and breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm just glad we finally get to lie down or something..."

"Do you think Ukraine would mind if I just... helped myself?" he asked, looked upon the delicate chocolates.

"Ukraine's lovely," America said. "She would get you more if she knew you were hungry."

"Except I'm not going to abuse my hunger and use her as a slave," he glared at America. "However, just one will be enough to keep up my energy."

"You tired, dude?" America asked.

England popped a chocolate into his mouth and turned his head to see America sending him a curious look. Admittedly, lack of food since around three thirty, precisely seven hours and twenty minutes ago, had sapped the strength from him. The running around, the intense planning and the carrying a heavy ladder around was finally doing its toll. He sighed and leaned back into the couch, savouring the one chocolate.

"I am," he admitted.

"I'd have let you drink that soda earlier if I'd known," America looked guilty. "I don't want to push you. Maybe you should stay here with Ukraine whilst I take the ladder to the attic and do what needs to be done?"

"Absolutely not," England sat up. "You said so yourself. There's no way we can split up."

America nodded, satisfied with the answer and settled himself down into the sofa. "Just eat a load of chocolate. The sugar rush should help."

"Where is Ukraine?" England glanced towards the door. "I'd have thought she'd be back by now."

"Belarus wouldn't harm her own sister, would she?" America looked concerned.

"I doubt so," England frowned, helping himself to another chocolate. "Unless there's a problem and she can't make Belarus go to the west wing?"

"If so, we'll just have to wait her out," America swallowed. "Ukraine might even be able to prevent Belarus from attacking us."

England nodded and helped himself to at least another three chocolates when the door opened and Ukraine walked in handling a tray. On it was more tea and what looked like jam tarts the size of a large hand's palm. She set the food down and sat in between England and America on the sofa.

"Tea for three and tarts to accompany!" she beamed. "I made these a couple days back, so they're still relatively fresh. There's an additional one for England since poor you missed dinner!"

"Why, thank you," England helped himself to a tart. It was delicious. "This is fantastic!"

"Thank you!" she laughed. "I've always been a baker. And, you know, sweet little Russia shares that with me. I've never seen Belarus as much as touch a stove, but if she shows any culinary prowess, I will not be surprised! But it's strange... I haven't been able to find Lithuania, Estonia or Latvia anywhere."

"Oh?" America looked puzzled between bites of tart.

"Well, it's quite strange, really," she poured them all tea. "Lithuania was with Russia the last I ever saw of him, and that was just after dinner. Well, Russia arrived here some time ago, about an hour ago, actually, and he was alone. That was just a little before Latvia had left with that German friend of yours to go to the bathroom, but when I returned, neither were there! And Estonia! He went to bed, but when I went to his room, there was no one there!"

"Estonia's vanished?" America looked horrified. "I like him."

"Where's his room?" England asked edgily.

"Left side of the stairs, at the end of the hallway," Ukraine replied. "Why?"

"We passed by there," England said carefully, thinking about the phone plan. "He wasn't there, and I'm sure that was before you went there, assuming you just headed there now?"

She nodded absently. England glanced at America, who looked deeply concerned.

"I've always had a certain place in my heart for the Baltics," America announced, finishing his tart and drinking his tea. "I hate to think something's happened to them."

"It was strange, because Russia said someone might be in the house," Ukraine admitted. "But that's impossible. We don't have a back door, so the only entrance is the front door. Whenever Russia's out, one of the Baltics stays by the door to greet him, so would've seen if someone entered. That's ignoring the fact we're surrounded by miles of dense snow and some thick woods. It's very difficult to get through the Russian border without being shot down in suspicion of attack. I really don't know what's going on..."

England swallowed and chose his words carefully. "Have you ever considered-"

"I think they're playing a trick on him," she shrugged. "He's just a bit silly and probably hasn't noticed, and you two evidently aren't in on the joke, because you're still wandering around. Unless, that is, you actually are in on it, and that's why you have a ladder?"

"No, Ma'am," America smiled, crumbs on his mouth. "But we're getting everything sorted!"

"Sorted?" she looked concerned. "Has there been an argument amongst you boys?"

"No, there hasn't," England said, drinking his tea. "But, Ukraine, you should probably stay in here. Also, I advise you to avoid Belarus from now on."

"Belarus?" Ukraine held her cup in her hands.

"Oh, if anyone's in argument, then she fell out with us during a game of truth or dare," America nodded. "She's been quite mad at us ever since."

"I suppose that explains the crowbar," Ukraine said.

"We should best be going," England checked the time. "We can't take any longer on this. Thank you very much for the tea and food."

Ukraine nodded and her eyes flicked back to the TV as they stood and lifted the ladder once more.

"I can deal with Belarus if she comes here," she said as they left the room.

* * *

Russia left the lounge where everything had started. He held the faucet still, but had chosen to leave the gun, since that was something he could never pull through. He ambled out into the hallway, the pep talk from the vodka having boosted his confidence.

"Big Brother Russia?" Belarus said from behind him and he turned.

He whirled around with a stretched smile and saw his younger sister standing at the end of the hallway, staring at him. The way the moonlight cast shadows across her face and the hollow expression in her eyes was somewhat terrifying.

"It's really you," she said, taking a step closer, as he took a step back. "I've missed you so much. All your horrible friends have been keeping you away from me, and then you locked your bedroom door. I've been so lonely, big brother Russia, and I want you to comfort me."

"Belarus, you should go to your room and lock the door, because this house isn't safe," he stood three steps back.

"You're still trying to get rid of me and be cool in front of your friends!" she hissed. "No longer, big brother. They're not here, are they? We can do what we like?"

"No, Belarus, no," Russia shook his head. "I need to find them. They're my friends and they probably need me right now."

" _I_ need you right now!" you pouted.

Russia shook his head and started walking away. "Go to bed, Belarus. Lock the door."

"Big brother Russia, you're shaking," she commented softly, and he looked over to see she was walking towards him. "You're not possibly planning of getting rid of your guests and joining me, are you?"

"What? No," he looked horrified. "Go away, Belarus."

"But big brother," her smile was ominous. "Tonight is the night we can become one."

* * *

Germany felt warm. Wherever he was, he couldn't move his hands, and he was blindfolded. There were people nearby, but he couldn't tell who.

"Hello?" he said aloud.

"Germany?" Italy's voice was a warm welcome. "I didn't realise you were here, Germany!"

"Oh, there you are," China sounded annoyed. "I was really pissed when I was brought here first, aru."

"Italy? China? What's going on?" Germany asked.

"I don't really know," Italy replied. "But I've been kept warm and was supplied with plenty of water when I needed it."

"I'm here as well," France stated from nearby. "And I can feel someone's elbow in my back."

"That might be me," Lithuania admitted sheepishly.

"Wait, are we dead, or alive?" Germany demanded.

"Good point," Estonia said from beside him. "The last thing I remember was having a sack pulled over my head."

"Estonia as well?" Germany frowned. "Wait. Japan? Are you here?"

There was no answer. The silence was a crushing weight.

"Japan's not here?" China suddenly sounded strained. "I really thought he would be, aru."

Germany craned his head upwards to try and see beneath whatever was blocking his eyes. Unfortunately, his captor had tied it round his face with extreme professional skill.

"I don't want to be dead, aru," China was saying. "But it sounds like Estonia was killed, and Germany doesn't remember anything."

"I don't think I died," Italy said. "I don't think I'm dead."

"Italy, what happened to you?" Germany asked.

"What do you mean?" he replied.

"You were the first to vanish," Germany stated.

"I know, right?" he sounded surprised. "I was so lonely down here, but now that you guys are all here, I've got people to talk to!"

"No, no," Germany shook his head. "I mean, what happened when you left the bathroom?"

"Oh, that," Italy sounded disappointed. "Well, I remember opening the door, and it was a really smooth door. No creaks, or anything, and-"

"Get to the point, aru!" China snapped.

"Oh, right," Italy laughed nervously. "I was jumped."

"By?" France prompted.

"Well, I don't know," Italy huffed. "I was scared, so I closed my eyes and started waving my flag, then I think I passed out in fear."

"Did anyone actually see this attacker?" Germany asked of the group he had now awoken to.

"No," Lithuania said. "I was walking along with Mr Russia just ahead, and someone got me from behind."

"Same here," France said. "Attacked from behind."

"I was on the couch and then someone attacked me as well," China admitted.

"Sack-napped whilst sleeping," Estonia grumbled.

"I was attacked from behind as well," Germany frowned. "Where is Latvia?"

"I'm here as well, Mr Germany," Latvia said from beside him. "I didn't see the attacker, either. They gagged me before they got to you."

"Well, this  _sucks_ , aru," China spat. "Who did this? And where is Japan?"

"Maybe we're dead and Japan survived the attack," Italy sighed.

"Or vice versa," Germany swallowed. "Maybe we survived the attacks, but Japan didn't."

"No," China gagged. "Japan can't be dead. Oh, God. What if his dead body is lying in this room staring at me with those vacant, soulless eyes, aru? I can't take it. It's too horrible, aru."

"China, calm down," Germany said. "There'll be an explanation."

"What if he's dead, Germany?" Italy sobbed. "Japan's our good friend, Germany. What if he's dead?"

"He's not dead!" Germany roared.

"How do you know?" France asked quietly.

Germany sucked in a breath and sat there. The silence was his judge ad he could tell they had nothing better to do than await his answer. Japan's welfare was a mystery to him and lying to make them feel better wasn't working at this stage. He could tell Italy and China were getting panicked about it.

"I... I  _don't_ know," he confessed. "I don't know, OK? Wherever he is, he could be with England and America as well, because neither of them have spoken."

The thought of the three no longer being in the world made Germany feel cold.


	13. Chapter 13

**England and America handled the ladder carefully down the hallway, heading towards the central staircase that would lead them upstairs and then to the loft.** Their goal was just inches away, and with Belarus being in the west wing, she was unlikely to bother or attack them.

"Feels pretty good to suddenly be winning, doesn't it?" America smiled.

"It does, actually," England frowned. "Who do you think the first person to call should be?"

"Canada," America said. "I feel I should at least let him know I'm still alive..."

"I can't say I'll be calling Sealand," England sighed. "He's hardly useful."

"Eh, don't be too harsh on the kid," America laughed. "Do you think the Scandinavians would help us?"

"Possibly," England thought of all the help they could get. "In this situation, I don't see why they wouldn't."

"Austria and Hungary," America said dreamily. "Oh, it's too much! I'm just glad to finally get the hell out of here."

* * *

After the comment about becoming one, Russia had lost all nerve. Unable to pretend he was braver and face Belarus, he turned and broke into a run.

"Leave me alone, Belarus!" he cried as he ran down the hallway.

"Come back, big brother," she yelled, following in quick pursuit. "I want to become one with you and marry you and have wonderful walks in the park with you!"

 _Where did the parks come from?_ Russia wondered, but he didn't stop to question his sister's general odd behaviour.

He swung round the corner and started dashing along the hallway, glancing over his shoulder every now and then to see that Belarus was catching up on him.

* * *

England paused at the sound of footsteps. He tried to glance past America, but couldn't see beyond his ally or the ladder.

"Do you hear-" America began, but was brutally interrupted.

England braced himself at the sight of someone crashing into America, whose chin crashed into the ladder. It slipped from his grasp as he angled his body away from it to prevent any more damage being done to him. England watched his glasses fall from his face. Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion. Even the ladder being jammed into his gut from the force of the crash was painfully slow. The air rushed from his lungs as he pushed the ladder aside to the floor and braced himself for the next impact: Russia.

Having already crashed into America, Russia stumbled over the newly dropped ladder that England left in his path, he fell forwards, head-butting England in the process, where they both fell in a heap on the floor. Russia landed straight on England, but also hissed from a sharp pain in his arm from landing on his elbow in an attempt to break his fall.

It was a catastrophe.

Belarus, who was running at top speed, tried to slow herself down. Russia, seeing her coming, jumped to his feet and pulled England, who was gasping like a fish, up with him. America reached for his glasses, just as Russia grabbed his jacket and hauled him along. In the style of Indiana Jones, he whipped his glasses up and snapped them on his face, last minute, whilst being dragged. Russia sucked in a breath from the pain in his arm, but kept running.

Belarus, unable to stop herself, tripped over the ladder and fell flat on her stomach. The crowbar skidded across the ground in front of her.

"I'm so sorry, Belarus," Russia screamed as he ran along.

"Big... brother?" she sounded more confused than hurt as Russia continued ploughing down the hallway.

"What's going on?" America yelled.

"We're getting away from my sister," Russia sharply turned around the corner.

England, winded from the weight of Russia, gasped like fish, as he was pulled into the library once more. Once released, he fell to his knees and focused on breathing, as Russia locked the door and dragged the sofa in front, as well as an additional bookshelf to go along with it. He slumped down on the sofa and stretched both arms before himself, wincing as he did so.

America turned the lights on and stood, glasses askew and jacket ruffled. "Are you OK?" he asked England.

Breathless, England nodded, and laid flat on the floor. The lights above danced like stars as he continued to breathe in and out, each breath becoming easier as he kept at it. Once he was sure the air was travelling properly through his lungs and air passages, he propped himself up on his elbows and looked at Russia.

"Where have you been?" he demanded. "You vanished at the beginning of this night and we've been looking for you ever since."

"Really?" Russia looked surprised. "I..."

"Yes," England gasped. "We realised we shouldn't be blaming you for everything and thought we'd look for you but everyone's been gradually disappearing."

"Where's France?" Russia asked.

"Gone," England blew out a breath. "What's wrong with your arm?"

Russia looked at him. "What?"

"You were... shaking it earlier," England said. "Did you do something to it?"

He shook his head. "Nah. I'm fine."

The three of them sat in awkward silence, none of them sure of what to say to one another. England was just relieved to have an extra member to the party, but he was well aware that America and Russia were enemies, or something close to that.

"I was mainly in the west wing," Russia admitted. "But I did come over here once or twice..."

"We've been everywhere but the west wing downstairs," America said.

"What was the ladder for?" Russia asked.

"The loft," England said. "We were trying to get there."

"OK."

Another silence ensued. Russia kept glancing towards the door and America kept giving Russia glowers, only to look towards England every now and then in a dubious manner. England, fully recovered, tapped his knee uncomfortably through the silence. He could feel America's eyes on him and Russia seemed to be refusing to make eye contacts with either of them.

"I thought she would've been here by now," Russia murmured, listening against the door.

"Same," America agreed darkly.

"Russia, is Belarus taking everyone?" England finally blurted out and Russia turned in his seat on the sofa to look at them both, alarmed.

"No, Belarus isn't the one," he said. "She wouldn't do that."

"She was threatening to dispose of us earlier," America scowled.

"She just doesn't like you," Russia frowned. "I know, I know... She's very violent, but she honestly doesn't do a lot with intent to harm. Seriously. If she had caught us after the truth or dare thing, the most she would've done to France is given him a shake and then she wouldn't have known what to do afterwards."

"Really?" America looked sceptical.

Russia nodded and they all lapsed into silence again. England strongly believed it was Belarus. He also believed that Russia was in denial about his sister.

"Who do you think it is, then?" America asked through gritted teeth.

Russia rolled his eyes. "Ukraine."

"That's utter bollocks," England blurted out and Russia turned his head to him, alarmed. "Ukraine would hardly do any of this. I think Belarus is the attacker."

"No, I swear it's Ukraine," Russia looked horrified. "I would never usually blame either of my sisters for anything, but seriously, Ukraine has been acting strange and I think she's the attacker."

"She had tea and tarts with us only about half an hour ago," America looked irritated. "If she was the attacker, surely she'd have poisoned the food or drugged it, since she made it herself."

"She made it herself?" he looked confused.

"Yes, because all the Baltics have gone missing," America glared.

"I don't know why you're looking at me like that," Russia gave him a hard stare.

"Because you're in  _denial_ ," America said, exasperated. "Your little sister Belarus is a psycho. A light shake? I'm fairly sure she was going to bash my brains out earlier with that crowbar she's got her hands on. You know what else she has? Issues."

"Please don't talk about my sister in this way," Russia looked uncomfortable.

"Belarus is dangerous," America continued. "You need to accept that."

"I swear on my life that it's Ukraine," Russia replied darkly.

"Ukraine wouldn't do this," America insisted. "Have you seen Belarus, though? She was chasing you down the freaking corridor! For all we know, you could have been next."

"I would not be saying it was Ukraine if I didn't have a reason," Russia snapped. "At one point, yes, I thought it was Belarus, but some staggering facts about Italy's whereabouts when he disappeared provoked me to reconsider. I might not have solid evidence, but I've got enough to keep me alive."

"Go on, then," America folded his arms. "Give me this theory of yours."

"Italy was in the east wing bathroom," Russia said rapidly. "Ukraine remained in the east wing. Belarus came to the west wing to see us. The amount of time it would've taken her to get to us means she wouldn't have had time to dispose of Italy to arrive at the time she did. Belarus can't be the one. Why is it, Ukraine? She was the last person to see Germany and China."

"But Belarus was outside when France was murdered and taken," America protested.

"I don't know what happened to France, but I can now assume that Japan went missing alongside Germany and China," Russia argued.

"She said Latvia was with Germany and that they went to the bathroom and disappeared," America said.

"She could've lied, da?" Russia glanced at him in disbelief.

"It's true that she never mentioned China," England said, suddenly feeling cold.

"Don't listen to him, England," America glared at them both. "His boss and Ukraine's boss aren't on good terms. He's probably just accusing her out of spite."

"Why would I do that?" Russia looked offended. "I don't want  _either_ of my sisters being the attacker. I want to see them as  _innocent_ sisters, not murderous ones."

"Saying Ukraine's a killer is exactly the same as saying Canada is as well," America snorted. "That just can't happen."

Russia shrugged, unsure of how to reply to that. England had to agree. Canada didn't exactly stand out that much...

"How about we go there and demand answers?" America said.

"OK," Russia stood and faced him.

The two glared at one another and then set to moving aside the sofa and bookshelf.

"Please," England frowned. "Let's not do anything too brash."

Somehow, he ended up leaving the room after Russia, with America stalking angrily behind him. Being sandwiched between the two when they were this heated about what was going on was nerve racking.

"You can guarantee that, when we ask her, we'll be able to extract the information we desire, that being the locations of all the people she's potentially killed," America stated, sounding like a contract.

There was a feverish burning in his eyes. England realised that America had just gotten desperate.

"I swear on my life," Russia sent him a dark look over his shoulder. "Although I would like to think Ukraine hasn't  _killed_ anyone, but just captured them..."

"Are you sure you can turn your sister in if it comes down to it?" America questioned. "Because if Ukraine is the attacker, then she's committed crimes against all these countries and has potentially earned a lot of enemies."

Russia turned around. "If it's not Ukraine, it's Belarus. Either way, I and my sisters suffer, da?"

"He has a point," England glanced over his shoulder. "Just lay off for a bit, OK?"

"Dude, this is the deciding point," America said as they reached the door.

England found it strange that the door was closed, since they hadn't closed it, and he was sure Ukraine had also left it open. However, Russia seemed unconcerned and opened it after knocking.

"Hello, Ukrai-" Russia walked into the room.

England peered round and raised both eyebrows. Tea was spilt across the table and on the carpet. The chocolates were scattered on the floor and some had been stepped on and crushed.

"Ukraine..." Russia looked horrified.

"Swear on your life, eh?" America's voice shook. He sounded both breathless, but also angry.

England turned just as Russia did, and stared straight at the gun America held in his hand, aimed at Russia.


	14. Chapter 14

**There was a slight, unsettling shake in America's hand as he faced the point towards Russia.** The feverish look remained in his eyes and there was sweat on his brow. England stood between them, the only obstacle the bullet would face if America fired in that very moment.

"You had a gun this whole time?" Russia looked offended.

"Of course I did," America snapped. "The moment you invited us here I was suspicious. I would've brought more than a handgun had England not intervened at the time."

"I honestly think you should put the gun away," England begged.

"You brought a weapon into my house with possible intentions to use it," Russia said incredulously. "This was supposed to be a fun night, but now I'm at gunpoint, most of my guests and household have gone missing and England is sober."

"Please don't measure a night out by how much I drink," England's face flushed with embarrassment.

"Say it how it is, Russia," America's eyes twitched. "Tell me how both you and Belarus have bee disposing of everyone."

"What?" Russia's face fell.

"This is how I see it," America said carefully. "You have enemies amongst us and tonight, a lot of us made enemies with Belarus. Italy was taken down by Belarus in the bathroom and she left him there to arrive at the lounge we were in. That was her way of saying she had knocked him out. Assuming Belarus did the clever thing, she hid him in the bath and, when you sent Lithuania to check if he was there, a seemingly empty bathroom was enough for him to confirm that Italy was not there. You deceived Lithuania and got Belarus to do the dirty work."

"This sounds very feeble," Russia said.

"Listen," America's finger slipped to the trigger and Russia froze. "Once you were out of the room after being accused, you needed to reconsider. It was easy for you to get rid of Lithuania, because no one was there as a witness, and he was only in the way. Both you and Belarus were taking people down. She targeted France, which probably meant you snuck to the east wing to separate the other three. Somehow, you got Japan away from Germany and China, because Ukraine never reported to having seen him. You easily disposed of Japan and then Germany went to the toilet with Latvia. I'll assume Ukraine probably left the room, which was when you next targeted China, since Ukraine also said she'd seen you nearby at a similar time. After China, you needed to get away before Germany and Latvia returned. There are so many rooms down here; you could've hid in many. You hid in the library."

"The library?" England looked at America in confusion.

America nodded as if he were on a roll. "You went in the room, but you didn't cover your tracks efficiently enough. Estonia entered the library and, whilst he didn't see you, it was a close enough shave. For a time, we thought Estonia was suspicious, but he was just investigating the room that you had entered. Once Estonia was asleep, you followed him and disposed of him, covering your tracks and getting rid of the one person suspicious of you."

"So, what happened to Germany and Latvia?" Russia asked, a challenge in his voice.

"That's simple," a smile spread across America's face. "After you attacked Estonia, you sent Belarus to get the crowbar, because it was a deadly weapon. On your way down the stairs, though, you encountered Germany and Latvia, but I and England were already gone by then to get the ladder. You deceived them and attacked Germany from behind. It wasn't hard for you to dispose of Latvia once Germany was out of the picture, but the fighting injured your arm."

"I'm sure I did that just now," Russia arched an eyebrow.

"No, no- once Germany and Latvia were gone, it was easy," America's eyes were wild. "You believed Belarus would jump scare us and get rid of us there and then. However, when she failed to do so, you ended up getting trapped with us. The reason Ukraine isn't here now is because both you and Belarus intended to get rid of her at some point during the night."

"What's my motive?" Russia asked.

"You're motive is sick and twisted, and is the reason Italy had to go first," America laughed. "You're motive is to become the most powerful country in the world. You haven't made  _that_ a secret. The  _underlining_ reason is because your incestuous relationship with Belarus started this."

" _What_?" Russia squinted at him.

"Italy obstructed Belarus at the dinner table when she wanted to sit next to you," America said. "You were talking to him and she was jealous. In a fitful rage, she murdered him in the bathroom. When you found out, you were surprised at first, but then started to see the benefits. Getting rid of me and China would be one of the best moves you could make to become the strongest nation in the world. Murder became easier as more people died, be it for convenience or for your goal. The Baltics had to die for your plan to work, and the pair of you saw Ukraine as an awkward barrier to your relationship. However, your plan went horribly wrong."

"Oh, did it?" Russia feigned a look of surprise. America was too far gone to realise that, though.

"Yes," he breathed. "Belarus failed to kill us at the garage. We escaped. Shamed at the idea of failure, she sought us out whilst you hid in the west wing. However, we deceived her and she failed again. Her only option became to lie. In her desperation to be with you, Belarus pretended she had killed us. She didn't want you being angry with her failure and revoking your promise. Your plan was to now kill Ukraine, so in your anticipation to celebrate your victory, you ran down the hallway with Belarus not too far behind. However, you were  _stunned_ at the sight of us. You hadn't expected Belarus to lie for her love of you, and when you collided with me, you had to improvise with the usual terrified attitude against Belarus. We believed it. I don't know how you intended to kill us at this stage, but in her rage, Belarus got rid of your older sister and probably intended to do us in as well. You, who were subduing your attitude, tried to play our friend as you did with Germany, but Belarus was going all out at this stage. Your contradicting attitudes have led to this scene here, because Belarus killed the one person you could load your actions onto."

America grinned. "It's over, Russia. I said I would be the hero and avenge my murdered friends, so this is what I'm doing."

"Except you've got it all wrong," Russia said.

America pulled the trigger. England threw himself to the floor as he heard the bullet rip through the air. Rolling over, he saw Russia had only just thrown himself to the side in an attempt to get out of the bullet's direct path. However, his sleeve was torn, a burnt and bleeding wound left behind the bullet skimming across his skin. America reloaded the gun, but Russia was one step quicker. He jumped up and smashed America's hand with a kitchen faucet and the gun was sent clattering to the ground. America ducked under his arm and dived past, shoving England aside. Russia didn't hesitate. He pulled England to his feet and left the room.

England fell into a running pace beside him. "What do we do?"

"We get away from that  _psychopath_ ," Russia's eyes were wide.

Never once did they run in a direct straight line. Another shot was fired. England looked in horror as the bullet pinged into the wall nearby him, splintering it in crumbling wallpaper and brick shards. It ricocheted to the ground, landing on the carpet with a thin line of smile rising from its nose.

"I really need a bulletproof house," Russia grumbled as England turned wide eyes towards him.

Russia suddenly dashed into the library and England almost ran past the room. He doubled back and ran inside. He followed Russia into the maze of bookshelves, where they rested to a stop, hidden amongst the books.

"Why did we go in here?" England asked.

"How far are you willing to go?" Russia asked and looked at him pointedly.

"Against America?" England panicked. "I-I don't know."

"Do you think he would shoot you?" Russia looked sincere.

"He nearly did," England frowned. "What's wrong with him?"

"Honestly?" Russia looked sympathetic. "He's scared, paranoid, watches too many horror films. It's Halloween tomorrow, and he's a little feverish."

"Feverish?" England gasped.

"You didn't notice?" Russia frowned. "He looked a little pasty this entire time. That's why I wanted to stay in the little lounge as well as eat a large, hot meal. I went out to meet you guys and he was  _not_ coping well in the cold."

"I-I didn't..."

"I saw you guys come in here," America cooed down from across the library.

Instantly, Russia and England fell silent. However, Russia gave England a pointed look. Swallowing, England nodded, hoping this was a good decision.

Like two ninjas, he and Russia crept along past the bookshelves. Despite his size, Russia was stealthily silent. England assumed that was from years of managing to avoid Belarus like a boss. His new ally kept peering in through the bookshelves, checking America's progress. He suddenly motioned for England to stop walking, but moved further down their aisle, always checking through the slight gap in the books. America hadn't bothered to turn on the lights when he'd come in, but the wide open door shone the light on his back, which gave England and Russia a chance to see him.

Further down the aisle, Russia made pushing motions against the bookshelf he stood near and held up his hand with three fingers. England stared at him, alarmed, until he received a pointed look. He had signed up for this. Keeping an eye on Russia, he watched him count down three. When Russia's third finger went down, he pushed against the bookshelf he stood near, throwing his full weight into it and watched it start to topple.

"What the...?" he heard America exclaim, just as the bookshelves began to fall in a domino effect.

"Come on!" Russia yelled to England as he ran for the door.

Two gun shots were aimed towards Russia's location, based on his voice, but England pressed forward and saw that he made it out of the room. He staggered out of the room, dust flying from the collapsing bookshelves. The door was slammed shut behind him and he turned to see Russia locking it with a key.

They listened to the crashes inside as well as several other gunshots. Taking a step back, Russia breathed a sigh of relief. England leant against the wall and tilted his head back.

"Let's get that ladder," Russia gasped, looking strained. "Why did you want to get into the loft anywa?"

"We were hoping we'd have better communication there," England replied. "A safe place, maybe. If that's not the case, there'd be no point going there."

"No, there could be better signal," Russia nodded. "Who are you calling?"

"Well, I don't know anymore," England blew out a breath. "I think I'll call Canada and tell him his brother's lost his bloody mind. I don't know what he'll do, but I'm sure his calming voice might ease America's fevered mind."

Russia nodded and they awkwardly staggered down the hallway. England frowned, concerned about his unsteady movements, but walked alongside him nevertheless. Russia never ceased to keep an eye out for Belarus and even England was warily on the lookout for both America and Belarus. There were suddenly so many dangers in Russia's house that England wasn't sure what the most dangerous was.

"I'm worried about Belarus being in the same house as that madman," Russia attempted to keep conversation flowing. "If she encounters him, he'll shot her, because he thinks she's in on it."

"You're not... you know," England frowned.

"Of course not," Russia shook his head and then leant against the wall in pain. "She just likes me way too much. However, neither of us are involved with these disappearances."

"How do you know, Russia?" England sighed. "We're the only four left..."

"A brother usually has a good instinct about his little sister, if he has one," Russia smiled knowingly. "There's just something inside me that's telling me Belarus is not the one. Big sisters are more unpredictable, but don't hold my accusations against me, da?"

England nodded. "Now, let's see what's wrong with your leg."

"It's nothing," Russia said defensively. "Lets get to that ladder."

"OK, then, so if I kick your leg, you're going to be fine?"

"Please don't kick my leg," Russia looked concerned.

"Let me see it, then," England folded his arms. "If you have any injuries, let me know about them. I need to be aware of everything when making plans that could include you."

Russia nodded and relented, turning his leg to show England the damage done

"This is supposed to be a comedy," England complained. "He got you with the gun."

"It feels like it," Russia scowled. "I can walk. It hurts, but I can walk. Maybe even run."

"Fine," England frowned. "But, if you need support, I can... help you walk..."

Russia laughed. "Don't worry. I've survived so many things that a shot to the leg is minor. It hurts, sure, but whatever, da? Nothing I can't handle."

England nodded and they continued down the hallway until they reached the entrance hall. The floor was bare. The ladder was gone. Both stood and stared at the empty spot where the ladder had been.

"It's gone," England stated, knowing it was obvious, but needing it said aloud nevertheless.

"Belarus," Russia pinched the bridge of his nose. "Belarus took it."


	15. Chapter 15

**The little alarm clock in Russia's study began to beep, signalling the arrival of midnight.** It had been a collaborated decision that, after the disappearance of the ladder, England and Russia would retreat to the latter's study in the west wing and hide out there for a period of time. England couldn't believe he'd stayed a full five hours at Russia's house and was still alive  _and_ sober. However, he hadn't anticipated the night to get as dark and deadly as it now had.

"We need to find Belarus," Russia was saying and England glanced towards him. "Wherever she is, she's got what we want. The ladder is our only chance of survival."

"It's like he's bloody possessed," England sighed. "Happy Halloween, by the way."

"You too," Russia murmured as he drew a quick sketch.

"What's that you're drawing?" England walked over and looked over his shoulder.

"The levels of my house," Russia said. "Ground and top. I'm trying to theorise where Belarus may be... She won't be in the loft, because I have the key for that."

_So, even if we_ had _got the ladder there, our efforts would have been futile_ , England thought, reflecting on how proud he and America had been when carrying the ladder down the east wing hallway.

Russia drew a circle in one room. "That's where America was when we left him. There are some possible places where Belarus would've gone, but I think the most obvious is her room."

"Her room?" England glanced at him, unsettled.

"Yes," Russia's face was grave. "If she's in there, we're going to have to be very careful about how we approach these things."

"What should the plan be?" England asked.

"How tall are you?" Russia asked, and turned in his chair to assess England.

"Oh, about five nine," England said. "Why?"

"Like Estonia..." Russia thoughtfully tapped his pencil to his lower lip. "You could fit through the windows, though, because you're slenderer."

"You're  _really_ going to need to describe this plan to me before we pull it off," England frowned, worrying about where this was going.

"OK, it begins like this," Russia tapped Belarus' room with his pencil.

* * *

England found himself in an armoury not too long later. Russia was picking out pieces of equipment, but the fantastic amount of weapons kept in one room made him anxious. Russia suddenly came out of nowhere and held what looked like bungee jumping equipment in front of him. He shrugged with an added nod.

"Put that on," he instructed and England did as told, strapping the suit to himself.

"Will I need a helmet?" he joked.

"Yes," Russia threw one on his head, which he adjusted swiftly.

"Am I sky diving or something?" he couldn't help but feel uneasy. "Will I really need this?"

"You're climbing across a building," Russia handed him rope. "You'll need all of this."

"What's the rope for?" England asked uncertainly.

"Attach it to the hooks on the bungee belt and make sure it's securely tied on," Russia instructed.

England did exactly as told.

"You'll be using it to scale the side of the building," Russia explained. "It's old, so the architects made it really elaborate. There are all sorts of stone hooks and holds you can use to attach the rope to. Remember, though, that you only need to travel to Belarus' window. If you fall, it's not the end of the world. The snow below will cushion your fall."

"I'm not sure that's how snow works," England muttered, but kept the rest of the rope coiled around his arm.

Swiftly, Russia checked his equipment and then nodded, satisfied with his work. "I think you're good to go."

"What are  _you_ doing, again?" he replied moodily.

"The only reason you're doing that part is because you can fit through windows, whereas I'm too big," Russia said. "Also, because this is my sister we're dealing with. I can talk to her, distract her, and you'll get the ladder out of her room. Remember to tie it to yourself to make sure it doesn't fall."

"Yes, yes," England rolled his eyes. "I'm also doing this because you've injured your arm and have a bullet in your leg..."

"Sorry, I didn't catch that," Russia glanced at him.

_You weren't meant to_ , England thought.

"I'm anxious as a lark and frightened to death," he said instead.

"You English use some really strange metaphors," he commented. "No matter. Let's do this plan of ours."

Russia nodded and they left the armoury. England noted how careful Russia was with locking it and didn't blame him. There were enough guns in that room alone to equip a small army.

They retraced their steps down the west wing hallway. There seemed to be no signs of America, thankfully, and instead they made their way upstairs. Rather than barrel straight into Belarus' room, they headed into the room next door. Russia locked the door quietly shut behind him.

"That's a precaution for your safety," he added. "OK, lock the door when I leave, da? I'll unlock the window in Belarus' room if it's locked. If she and the ladder aren't in there, I'll come back and get you."

England nodded and watched Russia leave the room. He did just as told and locked the door behind him.

* * *

Russia paused in front of Belarus' bedroom. He took a deep breath and then knocked.

"Big brother Russia?" Belarus opened the door and looked amazed to see him. "You ran from me earlier."

"Yes, and I'm very sorry," he lied, spying the ladder leaning against the wall. "I just came to apologise."

"You fell on your arm," she commented. "May I take a look?"

Russia casually swept into the room, stretching both arms, ignoring the searing pain of the bullet wound. "They feel find to me."

He turned and saw her looking at him suspiciously.

"Is everything OK?" he swallowed nervously.

"Um, yeah, it's just... you never come into my room through choice," she shrugged and closed the door. "Besides, your arm is bleeding."

Russia nodded and looked out the window. he noticed a lock at the bottom and the top and started picking at the one of the bottom.

"Russia, what are you doing?" she walked over. "I want to see your arm."

He spun round and smiled at her. "Sure."

He flung his arm out in front of her and instantly regretted it. He sucked in a loud breath and leant his other hand on the lock. Belarus rolled up his sleeve and studied his arm carefully. The window seemed impossible to open. Russia left her to it and glanced over his shoulder to see it was old and seemingly unusable. He curled his fist around and tugged at the lock.

"Aside from the obvious wound, I think you've broken your arm, big brother," Belarus commented.

"Oh, really?" he replied, distracted as he focused on the window lock. England depended on him getting the window open.

"Big brother, you also look live you've taken a bullet wound to the leg," Belarus sounded suddenly more eerie. "Does that mean you can't be running around all the time?"

Russia swallowed and paused. "I can still run."

"How about I inspect your leg as well, Russia?" she offered. "I can be a good doctor for- what are you doing?"

"I'm hot," Russia lied. "I want fresh air."

"Take off that coat and scarf, then," she took a step back and put her hands on her hips. "No wonder you're boiling."

Russia didn't like that idea one bit. "No, I like them both too much to let go."

"It's always  _Ukraine's_ stuff that you like so much, big brother!" she suddenly ranted and he looked at her in alarm, then continued with the window. "Why don't you ever notice me? You always say how you want friends and company to get rid of your loneliness. I can read it in your eyes, and I'm right here, big brother. I've  _always_ been right here, just wanting you to notice me and when you came in here, I really thought-"

Suddenly, the window lock snapped out of place and Russia flung the windows open. A gust of wind heaved its way into the room, accompanied by a loud, sickening thud.

"Bollocks!" England snapped and Russia peered out to see him swinging precariously from the rope, a red mark on his forehead where the window hit.

"Russia, what was that?" Belarus asked.

"I hit a bird," he turned to her.

She glowered at him. "And  _birds_ say 'bollocks' in an  _English accent_?"

"Oh, no, that was me," Russia lied through his teeth. "Now that England is gone, I want to... um... copy the way he swore. Because it was funny, da?"

He swallowed and her gaze bore into his soul. He could feel the sweat on his forehead as the situation became worse.

"As in... eh,  _bollocks_! Ought to... get myself a... err, cup of rosy now!"

"That didn't sound English at all,  _wanker_ ," England hissed from outside.

Belarus, fortunately, didn't hear that remark from the wind; however, she started walking towards the window.

"Where are you going?" Russia asked, nervous.

"I want to see where the bird landed," she replied. "And where it hopefully died."

Russia knew that, as soon as Belarus looked outside, she would see England. They would both be dead or tortured. He racked his brains and then closed his eyes, heaving out a breath.

As she walked past him with furrowed brow, Russia pulled his younger sister into a hug.

"What?" she blinked, surprised.

"I'm just so glad to have such wonderful sisters, da?" Russia forced a bright smile. "Say, the dress you're wearing is the one I got you, right?"

A disturbing blush crept across her face. "Y-yes, it is."

"So..." Russia tried to think. "Do you remember those gloves I gave you to accompany it?"

"G-gloves?" she frowned. "I... can find them."

_No, you can't_ , Russia thought.  _They don't exist_.

"Just... come," she panicked, clearly not wanting to upset him from not using his gifts. "It should be in my wardrobe somewhere."

Russia followed Belarus and she opened a large wardrobe of shelves and drawers and lots of places where a small pair of gloves could be hiding. Therefore, a lot of time for England to grab the ladder and go.

* * *

England had had a hard time adjusting the rope and had slipped several times due to the thin icy layer that covered the roofs of Russia's house. The wind didn't help, buffeting him and threatening to whip the rope away from the building. However, England tied efficient knots as well as using his general abilities as a spy to sneak into the room. He was the best of the best when it came to this. It only made sense now that he should do the sneaking and Russia do the talking.

England, head sore from the window bash and offended by Russia's poor imitation of his accent, lifted himself quietly onto the window ledge and sat there in a gentle crouch. He saw the ladder propped against the wall just a little way from the window. He slipped into the room, quiet as a mouse, the very James Bond of the real world.

He smiled to himself in triumph as he stood in Belarus' room.

"I really can't find these gloves," Belarus was saying.

"Oh, that's such a shame," Russia milked it. "I really thought they suited you... Do you remember what they looked like?"

"Um, of course I do!" she gasped.

"Oh, good- then I'm sure you remember the fur on the cuffs?" Russia said and England wondered if they were being cruel to Belarus just to get a ladder. Could they not have just asked for it?

Then again, he was always cruel to his younger sibling, Sealand, when he took the time to acknowledge him.

"They were as white as snow," Russia reminisced just as a England neared the ladder.

He closed his hands around both sides, lifting it with care, and heard Belarus' desperate searching in the wardrobe. Russia took one step back and smiled at England's progress before turning his attention back to Belarus.

Suddenly, the ladder, which hadn't been properly buckled when America had handled it earlier, slipped out and knocked everything from Belarus' desk, sending everything crashing to the floor.


	16. Chapter 16

**England watched as paper, pens, pencils, make-up, a desk light, a photo of Russia, a flower in a delicate, pink glass vase, and a book tumbled to the floor.** They snapped, broke and smashed as they made impact with the floor. He retracted the ladder, but he knew it was too late.

"What was that?" Belarus said from the wardrobe.

"It was nothing but the wind," Russia said edgily.

"That was more than the-"

"Wait!" Russia cried. "Belarus! Do you hear that?"

"You're scaring me, Russia," Belarus said. "Get out of the way and let me see what's happening."

England dove under her bed just as she stormed out of the wardrobe. He heard her shriek in dismay and saw her fall to her knees, lifting the photo of Russia. He watched as Russia's boots appeared when he joined his sister's side as she lamented over her precious brother's portrait photo.

"Oh, dear," Russia sighed. "Maybe it  _was_ the wind."

He crouched and started brushed up the vase into a pile with his hands. That was when he made eye contact with England. His eyes widened in horror and he glanced towards a sobbing Belarus who was slamming the window shut.

"Never mind about the photo frame," Russia said anxiously. "We can just get you a new one."

"And the vase, big brother Russia?" she sniffed.

"We can also get a new one," he said. "Or one of the Baltics can handcraft one for you, da?" It's not the end of the world, that's what I'm-"

England watched him gag as she grabbed the collar of his coat in a balled fist. She reached round and unclasped his coat, throwing it to the side. Russia frowned, turning his head to where she cast his coat.

"What are you-"

Belarus grabbed his scarf and tried wrenching that away.

"No," he protested. "I'm fine-"

"This is why you're so hot, Russia," she growled. "If you hadn't opened the window, then my precious photo of you would be intact."

"This is a paradox," Russia choked, persisting with the scarf. "You hate on me for breaking the photo of me you love?"

"That's what love is, big brother," she murmured.

_Do I really want to see this?_ England wondered and glanced towards the closed door.

Russia tugged his scarf out of his sister's hands and held it protectively around his face and neck.

"Belarus, I'm sorry, but please calm down," he begged.

She walked round and crouched before him, deep violet eyes intense.

_Russia looks just about ready to piss himself_ , England thought, and his sympathy towards Belarus started to ebb away.

"Do you know what night it is, big brother?" she reached out and held his face in her hands.

"No, but I really hope that  _bird_ survives despite my efforts," Russia muttered, and started crawling away from his sister, moving backwards.

A grin spread across her face and she followed him, crawling forwards on her hands and knees. England glanced towards the door again, and wondered whether he could get away, knowing that Russia's comment was meant more for him than Belarus.

"It's Halloween, big brother," Belarus said and England saw her leaning over Russia, who had hit the wall and looked horrified. "It's the night when the spirits are the most unsettled. My spirit is restless, big brother Russia, and I need you to calm it."

Russia met England's eye briefly and England knew it was now or never, whilst she was so distracted. Carefully, he angled himself to get out from beneath the bed safely and silently. He met Russia's gaze again and offered an encouraging smile.

"Big brother, you keep looking towards my bed," she whispered. "I realise now. You're too shy to say you want me. It seems the Westerners are long gone and Ukraine isn't here. That's what this is, isn't it? You want  _my_ attention."

Russia shook his head, turning his head away from his sister, looking on the verge of tears. England, who was out from under the bed and had the ladder in his arms, knew he couldn't leave Russia like this.

"I'm not shy, big brother," Belarus was saying as England approached the shelf where she kept her Russia photo album. "I really want this. I don't care how you treat me tonight. You can finally look upon me as the one you want without hesitation."

England reached up and pulled the photo album down, balancing the ladder on his back, which he'd quickly tied to his bungee cord suit. He could feel Russia's questioning gaze on his back.

"I  _want_ you to touch me, big brother," Belarus murmured to an uncomfortable Russia. "I  _want_ you to kiss me. I  _want_ you to make me-"

"Hey," England said feebly and swallowed when she turned in horror to lookat him.

"What are you doing in here?" she hissed. "I thought you were gone."

"Same," Russia said meekly, but there was gratitude written across his face.

"As Russia's...  _friend_ , I suppose... I can't sit here and watch you... defile him," England said awkwardly. "Therefore, I am going to burn all of these-" He opened the book and flicked through. "-horribly suggestive photos of your brother."

"There's no fire nearby, English prick," Belarus faced him aggressively as Russia cowered in the corner. "How are you going to burn it?"

England snorted. "Joke's on you, love. I always carry a lighter for Winston's pipe."

He pulled out a lighter from his pocket, a vintage 1910 design, and held it before her, feeling the heat of the flame. He lingered it close to the photo album. With sudden speed, Belarus pulled a knife from the stockings beneath her dress and hurled it at him. England jumped aside, flicking the lighter off and watched the knife pin into the wall where he'd stood. When he turned, he saw a furious Belarus with a crowbar heading straight towards him. He leapt aside again and watched her splinter the bedroom door from the force. She was like a hateful lionness.

England ran across the room just as Russia was getting to his feet and pulling on his coat. He swung out on the rope.

"Russia, hold on!" he yelled, offering more rope and Russia methodically slipped through the window whilst Belarus struggled with the crowbar behind them.

"I can't," he said with a sad smile. "I'm too heavy, England. I'll just pull you down. We'll meet at my study, if you can."

England watched in horror as Russia pushed off from the window ledge and fell down in the snow below. He watched him struggle to his feet and offer the thumbs up from down below.

"I'll see you there!" Russia waved cheerfully and started clasping his coat back.

"You  _bastard_!"

England turned his head to see Belarus glaring at him from her window. The crowbar was held in one hand and her other was on the window ledge. Russia's face fell and England started levering himself along the rope that held him between the two rooms. The fall looked too horrible to take and England was certain only Russia could survive something so extreme.

He glanced over his shoulder to see Belarus had returned to the window, sawing at the rope that held him in the place with her knife. Frantically, he started pulling himself along.

"England, let yourself fall!" Russia called from below.

"You're no better!" Belarus screamed. "With your English slut!"

"What?" they both glanced at her, but there was no discussing anything with her. The rope was almost giving way.

"Unbuckle yourself," Russia glanced back upwards, and took a couple of steps forward. "I'll catch you."

"I-I can't," England grimaced. "I don't... I don't really want to."

"I wonder how hard your head will impact with the building when I get this rope gone," Belarus laughed menacingly. "I wonder if you'll die instantly or bleed out of your head for the rest of the night."

"England, I'll catch you," Russia insisted. "I'm your  _friend_. You even said so yourself."

England looked down at the Russian, his scarf flapping in the wind and coat billowing. His hair was sort of blowing in his face, but his eyes were sincere and although he'd always thought he was a complete and utter psychopath, as well as evil incarnated with enough demon within him to break Busby's chair just by sitting on it, Belarus was worse. He glanced over to see the thick rope almost completely sawed through from her dagger and her wild eyes trained on him.

Usually, he would never do anything so risky. He would leave that to America. He would leave that to anyone else so long as it wasn't him.

Breathing in deeply, England untied his bungee suit from the rope holding him in place and let gravity take control. His stomach lifted inside of him as he dropped down. There was a loud protest from Belarus as he fell.

"Oh, wait a second..." he heard Russia say from below as he fell.

England fell on Russia. Russia's knees buckled and they collapsed in the snow.

"I thought you said you'd bloody catch me!" England hissed.

"That's what I said," Russia groaned. "I forgot you had the ladder. When combined, you're not as light as I'd thought you'd be."

"You bastard!" Belarus screamed and lobbed the knife at him.

England rolled to the side, screaming as he did so, and lay on his back in the snow. Belarus' face was a mask of horror. England glanced and saw an ashen expression on Russia's face as the knife stuck out of his leg.

"I... honestly don't know what to say," England winced. "I... suppose... this is meant to be a comedy?"

"No, England," Russia planted a hand on his head and used him to pull himself to his feet.

England rubbed his head and neck from the force Russia had pushed down on him, but also stood. He glanced over his shoulder and was glad to see that the ladder was OK.

He heard a sickening noise as Russia yanked the dagger from his thigh and chucked it into the snow.

"Big brother, I'm sorry!" Belarus gaped from above. "I-I meant to hit  _him_ instead! I'm sorry."

"No, Belarus," Russia said with gritted teeth as he started limping away, tugging England along with him. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I ever decided to throw this party in the first place."

"This is all your fault!" Belarus yelled at England. "If you weren't such a bastard I wouldn't have thrown the knife."

England chose not to reply to that and hurried after Russia. He was moving awkwardly and stiffly, which was understandable given his leg injuries. Belarus shrieked in frustration from behind, but there were no noises to indicate she was coming down. England walked beside Russia, amazed he hadn't collapsed at this stage.

Blood was staining his trouser leg from where the knife went in, but he continued to stride along.

"Won't she wait for us at the front door?" England asked fearfully, decided he never wanted to encounter Belarus ever again.

"That's where we're on step ahead," Russia muttered. "I left my study window unlocked and slightly open. We'll get in through there."

England had never seen him do that, but after being told the crazy plan, he had been preoccupied with many other thoughts and observations.

"Is your leg OK?" he asked awkwardly.

"Of course not."

"Oh, yeah," England glanced at Russia, who had a clear limp at this stage. "Thanks for... taking a knife as well as potential sexual harassment for me."

"No problem," Russia seemed a little calmer at this stage.

England nodded just as they reached a window that was slightly open. Russia opened it wider. England detached the ladder from his back as Russia climbed in through. They passed the ladder between one another, and then England hauled himself through the window. Russia closed it behind him and they both sat down in the study, which was freezing with snow blown inside.

"Where's that photo album?" Russia asked after a pause.

"The photo album?" England frowned. "Oh, right,  _that_. You know, I think I dropped it when she came at me with the crowbar. I think I dropped my lighter as well."

"Shame," he sighed. "I wanted to burn it."

England glanced at him with a frown.

"I didn't realise she took photos of me without me realising," Russia worried. "I always try to forget she's completely obsessive."

"Russia, we need to do something about your leg," England sighed.

Russia frowned. "I'll be fine."

"No, you won't," England turned to him. "You're still bleeding from the leg shot, your arm is broken and bleeding, and that knife wound is bleeding  _profusely_. Use your scarf or something to slow the blood flow."

"I can't use this," Russia tightened the scarf around his neck, dismayed. "But I do know where some bandaging would be."

"Well, we need it before you pass out from blood loss," England said, strapping the ladder to his back again. "Where is it?"

"The east wing bathroom."


	17. Chapter 17

**Upon hearing the words, England frowned and wondered whether getting bandages for Russia was such a good idea.** The east wing bathroom was where everything began, but it also meant passing the library which America had been brutally locked inside. However, Russia was looking considerably paler at this stage. He was sure his arm wasn't the only thing broken, either, especially after the impressive catapult from the window, as well as him landing on him with the ladder.

"We'll take things slowly and carefully," he told the wearing down Russia. "There's no need to rush. The important thing right now is ensuring your survival."

"What about getting to the loft?" Russia asked, watching him pace as he himself leant against his desk.

"That can wait a little bit," England replied. "You have the key to the loft. Besides, I'm not one for abandoning someone in need. Even if you collapse, I'll drag you to the loft."

"What?" Russia looked surprised. "Why?"

"Because even from the start, I didn't think you were behind these attacks," England admitted. "I was the one who talked everyone out of the idea. I didn't think you'd attack other countries because everyone would point the finger at you, and you'd have many other countries against you that wouldn't be worth it. I'll admit I was suspicious as to what you were up to when you sent those invites. Which leads me to the question all of us have been wondering. Why did you organise this?"

"I wanted company," Russia admitted. "Belarus and Ukraine were coming over as well because it was Halloween, but Belarus scares me, and you can see why. I wanted other people nearby, because she often tones it down when they're others nearby. It was selfish but, in a way, I wanted a subtle security just from hanging out with all of you. However, everything started going horribly wrong when Italy went missing, I didn't know how to react. I locked you all in the room to keep you safe from Belarus, because she was mad at you and might have inflicted harm if she'd wanted to, but also because I didn't want them attacking me for something I didn't do. I wanted to bring Italy's killer to justice and prove that it wasn't me. However, I went off in a rant and never got to the bathroom in time. Everyone started disappearing and now I've lost my sister, Ukraine."

He looked miserable. England truly did feel sorry for Russia in that moment.

"We should go," he decided. "I suggest you lean on my shoulder. You're limping."

Russia nodded wearily. Awkwardly, he put an arm across England's shoulders and the two started walking. He wasn't light, but England could bear Russia's weight. He could tell walking was causing strain on him at this stage, because he had a look of a wounded soldier trying to carry on for the last mile.

Carefully, they edged out of the study in that fashion, walking humbly down the hallway. England never would have thought it would be just him and Russia in the end. In his mind, he had believed that everyone would make it out and that it would turn out it was just Italy getting lost in Russia's unfamiliar house. He also never would have thought that he'd be supporting a country he had always been suspicious of, as they struggled along the west wing on their way to the east wing.

He desperately hoped Russia could make it. He wasn't sure what he'd do if Russia collapsed and wasn't able to continue. He didn't want to leave Russia on his own, for fear of either America or Belarus finding him, and he didn't want to encounter Belarus along the way. Both of them were in danger, but there was also something in England's mind that wouldn't go.

Who was the attacker?

It had come to the point where he just didn't know who to accuse. The attacker had to have been America, Belarus, or Russia, because he was sure  _he_ wasn't doing it. However, he had been with America the entire time and they had never split up. It wasn't America. Which meant it was either Belarus or Russia. Russia has insisted he wasn't the one doing it, and England strangely couldn't help but believe him. The obvious choice was Belarus, but why would she endanger her brother's reputation in that way?

"Who do you think it is?" Russia asked dully, as if reading his mind.

"Hmm?" England glanced at him. "I don't really know."

"I'm not sure I entirely care anymore," Russia admitted, as they passed by the armoury in their slow pace. "So much has happened that I don't care... I honestly just want it to end one way or another, even if it means I suffer at the end. I brought this upon everyone and myself. I wonder if karma actually exists?"

He had a strangely vacant smile on his face and a wistful expression in his eyes. England, choosing to remain rational despite everything, ignored what Russia was saying and pressed forwards. He didn't want to face the end, he didn't want to surrender, and he most certainly didn't want to die at the hands of the attacker when he and Russia had gone through so much just to get to the place they were currently walking. It would be too much to lose at this rate. England refused to believe they were at a disadvantage, he refused to believe it could end so miserably and he refused to think that something so light hearted could turn dark so quickly.

"If I collapse, would you leave me, England?" Russia asked, dazed.

"No," he replied resolutely. "I would drag you along by your feet if I had to get you to the bloody bathroom. Now, cut this sentimental crap, because I'm really not good at it. We'll make it out of here and the other nations we call to help us can deal with the attacker."

Russia nodded as they finally turned the corner. The hallway looked so long, but England was determined, and Russia was still able to continue. They weren't moving quickly. In a place where they were heavily threatened by Belarus' presence, England wanted to move slightly quicker, but was aware that Russia was no longer capable of doing so.

They weren't quiet anymore. The ladder kept rattling on his back as he supported Russia's unsteady movements. His footsteps were loud and clear, and Russia seemed to be dragging his feet along the floor, barely lifting them. Not only that, but they left a slight trail. There was a thin trail of blood running down Russia's leg from the knife wound, and England could tell it had been a deep wound. The blood had run past his boot and some had run over it, meaning there was a faded, bloodied print of the heel of Russia's boot. There was no more time for subltety. England hadn't even bothered to remove the helmet from his head.

They moved along through the main entrance hall. There was no sign of Belarus. England worried she was already somewhere down the east wing, and that their route was blocked. However, Russia seemed oddly unconcerned and strangely serene. Perhaps the danger had sedated him and apathy towards the situation had developed? England wished he could feel that way, since his nerves were scattered and his heart was racing from the fear.

The storm had suddenly died. Although there was still too much snow to fly a plane away, England knew Russia wouldn't be able to make the walk to the planes. Ideally, they could camp out there and hide until the snow melted a little and they could contact others outside. However, England was aware that the "ideal" situation was beyond hope at this point. The east wing bathroom was their best chance.

They passed into the east wing. They were almost there. All they had to do was turn round another corner, walk halfway down the hallway and then they were at the bathroom. It seemed too simple and easy after everything that had happened that England strongly believed there was a catch or something would go wrong. There was a terrible suspense that was suffocating England, but he was desperate to get to the bathroom.

They turned the corner and faced an empty hallway.

"Maybe the attacker got America," Russia whispered hopefully, and England couldn't help but agree with him.

There were no sounds of gunshots. The alternative was that he had been crushed by the bookshelves and had died, but England didn't want to think of that. They paused before the library and saw that the lock had been entirely blown away and that the door was left wide open.

"He's somewhere," England answered, but forced them to keep walking before Russia made a comment or did anything.

They were so close to their destination that England was  _sure_ something would happen. Beforehand, when they'd been close to salvation, he hadn't expected anything. It was possible he was so highly drawn that he would be disappointed if nothing happened. The expectation was there and it seemed to be with Russia as well, because he kept glancing around.

They stopped before the east wing bathroom. The door was shut, the light was off, but it was there. England pushed open the door and turned on the light. It was empty. With a sigh of relief, Russia closed the toilet lid and sat down, stretching his legs out before him. England closed the door.

He opened the medical cabinet and located the said bandaging they'd so desired. There were even some scissors. He approached Russia and started wrapping some around his knee where the bullet had entered.

"Wait, did the bullet pass through your leg?" he asked and Russia shook his head. "Alright, roll your trouser leg up."

Russia did exactly as told and England inspected the wound. He could see the bullet was still lodged in the back of Russia's knee.

"Brace yourself."

He held Russia's leg firmly with one arm. Russia looked up at the ceiling with a clenched jaw. England stood and rummaged through the medical cabinet and found a pair of tweezers. He turned towards Russia, who was still refusing to look at him. Approaching, he resumed the hold on Russia's leg and then jammed the tweezers into the bullet wound. Russia made a noise of complaint from his throat, but England pressed on, clasping the bullet with the tweezers and firmly pulling them out. Russia gasped from the pain, but held his ground. England discarded the bullet and tweezers in the bin and swiftly bound the bullet wound with the bandages.

For the knife wound, England deemed it would be fine if he tightly wrapped the next bandage round Russia's trouser leg. He did so, and there was little complaint. He did the same for the wound on Russia's arm.

"I'm afraid there's nothing I can do about a broken arm," he admitted and Russia waved a hand.

"This should be fine," he said and rolled down his trousers leg. "I'm sure we can make it to the loft now."

"Oh, Russia, did you come down here?" they heard Belarus from outside.

Instantly, they both fell silent and allowed her to pass. Fortunately, she didn't notice the light from the bathroom. They watched her footsteps move past.

"Russia's sister," they heard America say from further down the corridor and Russia's expression morphed into one of concern.

"You?" she sounded confused. "And there I was thinking Russia had gotten rid of you. I guess not."

"Your tricks end here," America replied.

"Is that a gun?" Belarus asked.

"Yeah, it is."

They heard a gunshot. Russia opened his mouth to speak, but England jammed a fistful of his scarf into his gob. He tried to stand, but England brought his elbow down on the knife wound. Russia's agony was muffled by the scarf and more gun shots were heard.

"I'm sorry," England gawked. "I'm sorry. There's nothing we can do. Absolutely nothing. He has the gun, he has the advantage."

An awful silence followed. Russia's shoulders shook. England glanced at him to see he was taking shuddering breaths, but there was a look in his eyes that England preferred not to see.

They looked as someone stood before the door, the shadows of their feet just visible.

_This is it_ , England thought, and braced himself for what was coming next.


	18. Chapter 18

**England danced away from Russia just as the door flung open and America jumped in, firing the gun.** He stumbled backwards and fell into the bath, bashing his head on the wall behind. The helmet took the impact, so England felt surprisingly OK for once.

He scrambled out of the bath in time to see Russia jam his faucet into the barrel of America's gun just as the moron fired. The gun, unable to handle the bullet's passage being blocked, imploded from the force, sending the two staggering away from one another.

England winced as he saw blood spatter across the wall and heard America's howl of pain. Russia shoved America aside and ran from the room. Seeing America turn towards Russia, England hurried forward and grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket.

"You wanker," he snapped and brought his forehead towards America's.

There was a loud crack as America's glasses split from the helmet and clattered to the ground in pieces. England was also sure he had broken America's nose, because a lot of blood gushed from his former ally's nose.

"Where's Belarus?" Russia demanded. "What happened to her?"

"Bitch got away," America said and spat blood that had run into his mouth. "I saw the light was on and decided to take down the orchestrator and the traitor instead."

"Traitor?" England sputtered indignantly. "I am no such thing. Just the only normal around here."

"You broke my magical stick," Russia glowered. "Usually, it settles disputes, but your thick American skull seems to not have realised that England is still here and therefore, I can't be the attacker."

"You're in on it!" America concluded. "I should've known there was a reason British actors are always the villains in my amazing films."

"You're bloody stupid if you think I'm behind it," England snapped.

"There are two of us and one of you," Russia said. "Give up."

"You're injured and I could beat England any day," America boasted. "Besides, I've got a weapon."

"Your gun was destroyed when you tried to shoot with it blocked," Russia replied. "You don't have a weapon, unless you've smuggled more arms inside my home without anyone realising?"

"The only person this gun belongs to is you, my dear Russia," America pulled a familiar gun from his jacket. "I found it in the lounge where you'd left it from that lovely display of Russian Roulette you tried to give us. I took it, because you never know when you need a spare gun."

He clicked the gun and faced it at Russia, who raised his hands. England didn't blame him. From this distance, there was no chance of America missing. England thought they both made a sad sight. America looked dishevelled and was covered in dust and scrapes, presumably from the library, and Russia looked on the verge of collapse. England lowered his head, hoping this wasn't the way it ended.

Russia watched the point of America's gun that was aimed at his head. He didn't dare move an inch, or lower his hands, no matter how much his arm was hurting.

"I never would have thought it would come to this," America said gravely. "You know how much damage this has caused and will cause? It's a never-ending war between you and I, for as long as we exist, I suppose."

"You're right about that," Russia murmured. "Belarus is OK?"

"For now," America shrugged. "She can probably live from this. For years she's been manipulated by your terrible ways. Once she has a better influence, things should improve."

"Mmm," Russia didn't know what to say to that. "As long as she lives..."

"So, you see?" America looked smug. "The hero always wins. I was guess you picked the wrong side, Russia, and whilst you had a good run what with picking off powerful places like Germany, it's the end. I don't have to shoot you. You can surrender and pay for your crimes. I actually don't  _want_ to shoot you. I'm not a killer, just a much needed bringer of justice. A hero."

"I surrender," Russia replied. "But why did you try to shoot Belarus without offering her justice? Are you really going to let me live? Or is my death just going to be added to the list of accidents America has committed across this world?"

"Your death, even if accidental, won't be too missed, Russia," America sighed. "You and that trai-"

England brought the ladder down on the back of America's head. He fell to his knees and England jumped over him with sudden energy. Russia started, surprised, but England tugged him along and they hurried down the hallway.

"I'm not a bloody traitor," England scowled.

Despite his injuries, England's sudden act of heroism was enough to keep Russia going. He felt his feet suddenly moving and raced down the hallway with England.

"To the loft?" he asked, and England nodded in response.

They turned the corridor, just as a gunshot was fired. They heard the rapid sound of America's feet pounding against the floor as he went in full pursuit.

Just then, Russia's injured knee buckled and he fell down.

England stopped instantly in his tracks and turned, hauling Russia back up. Russia glanced over his shoulder as England helped support him as they ran to see America rounding the corner. He wasn't wearing any glasses anymore, so all three of his shots he fired missed, flying past them and heading down the west wing hallway.

England sharply turned towards the staircase and they fled up the stairs. Russia worried, as he knew America was moving at a faster pace than them, but he didn't want to let England down. They reached the top of the stairs and turned to the right, where the loft was.

This was the moment England had been waiting for, and now he was unsure whether they'd make it to the loft and survive. They hurried past Belarus' room, Ukraine's room and the moment when he and America first discovered the loft suddenly seemed long ago.

They charged down that last bit of hallway and reached the loft. England swung the ladder in place, and they balanced it before the loft. He could hear America thundering up the stairs. Russia hurriedly climbed the ladder, and whipped the key to the loft from his other glove. Just then, America skidded round the corridor, took a rushed aim, and fired.

England dropped to the ground, but watched the bullet graze the side of Russia's hand. He ignored the thick, red line that formed and swung the loft door open. He scrambled up into the loft, and England started following his heart racing from sudden terror.

He turned on the ladder to see America reaching for his foot. Russia pulled him into the loft and reached for the door to close it. America was right there, taking aim once more when, suddenly, a crowbar connected with his temple and sent him sprawling across the floor. There was a moment of silence. America didn't move and he appeared to be unconscious.

Belarus appeared within sight, cautiously walking into view and looking up at them with wide, fearful eyes.

"Big brother? England?" she said, looking unusually timid. "What's going on?"

* * *

Germany was still in the same position. His arms ached from being tightly wrapped behind his body and his eyes were beginning to grow heavy from sheer exhaustion. Somehow, Italy had managed to keep up consistent chatter, talking about where he thought Japan, England, America and Russia were. There had been an alarming moment when Ukraine had been brought into the room, panicked and unsure of what was happening.

"I bet Japan is fine, aru," China worried. "I usually don't care what he's up to, but-"

"Oh, that's a lie!" France exclaimed. "Face it, China. You still see Japan as a younger brother after all these years."

"No, aru!" China protested. "Well, maybe... a little. Look, aru, he can be such a prick at times and he definitely doesn't treat me with the type of respect I should get. However, yes. In him, I still see the little boy that I first met when he was wandering around alone, and he still has a certain naivety to him, aru. War changed him and that makes me sad, but... I don't really know where I'm going with this, aru."

"That was very sweet," Ukraine commented.

"I'm usually not, aru," China sighed. "But I think it's finally safe to say that I miss him and am worried about him. It's just strange but he's not here with the rest of us."

"I agree," Italy said cheerfully.

"I just wanted to sleep," Estonia said. "I can't sleep sitting up like this. I kind of wish Mr Russia would hurry and take this attacker down."

"I hope Mr Russia's OK," Lithuania sighed.

"My poor little brother and sister," Ukraine sobbed. "They're still out there!"

"Oh, please don't cry," France sympathised. "They will be fine."

"I-I know," Ukraine sniffed. "But I get so worried about them! They're so innocent and young, and I always worry they won't get by if there's the knowledge that big sister Ukraine has been attacked..."

"I don't think they're as innocent as you seem them, aru," China replied drily.

"Whenever I see their faces, I feel the love of an older sister, a mother even, and I just want to pull them into the biggest hug ever," she sighed wistfully. "I always seem them as little children and it hurt me so much when my boss fell out with Russia's and we could no longer see one another! I think of Belarus and I see the little girl with her hair still short and her inability to separate herself from Russia. She's always been so fond him. It's adorable."

"I suppose that's  _one_ word for it," China muttered.

"Shut up," France hissed.

"And then I also think of little Russia and the day I gave that scarf to him," she sighed. "He loves it so much that I don't remember a time when he didn't wear it. He'd just have a cute little face whenever he'd run up to me and cry to tell me he was being bullied. Even though my advice never seemed to work out for him, he pulled through completely unscathed!"

"I assume you're referring to his physical condition opposed to his mental one?" China resumed, followed by a faint, pained noise, and the sound of someone, presumably France, digging their elbow into someone else's ribs, likely to be China's.

"I just miss them," Ukraine finished hopelessly. "I missed them back then, and I miss them now. I don't know. I don't want to have lost the little siblings I love so much."

"You won't," Italy said soothingly. "We've all got at least one person out there who are concerned for us. China has South Korea, Germany has Prussia, Lithuania has Poland, Estonia has America, Latvia has Sealand, Ukraine has her siblings, France has England and  _I_ have Romano!"

Germany was sure there were some names in there that had less concern for them, but he chose not to say anything in order to spare Italy's feelings.

Footsteps filled the room and Germany turned his head towards them.

"Who's that?" he demanded.

For some reason, his blindfold was suddenly lifted from Germany's eyes, and he came face to face with Latvia.

"Latvia?" he looked surprised. "How did you escape? This is excellent. Unbind my hands and we can get everyone out of here and find out who is responsible."

"Mr Germany, I wish I could give you a straight answer in response," Latvia looked nervous.

"What do you mean?" he asked, quizzical.

"You're all being released," Latvia said, unbinding Germany's hands, before going around to remove the blindfolds from everyone else's faces, as well as their hand binds. "But there's a little more to this than you think."

"Latvia," Germany frowned. "I don't think I fully understand."

"There is a lot of explaining that needs to be done," Latvia replied anxiously. "But there's also a lot of apologising that will be accompanying it."

"What?"

"You'll understand very soon, Mr Germany."


	19. Chapter 19

**England moved aside to let Russia pass him down the ladder.** He climbed down after him, dazed, and watched Russia genuinely hug his sister, who dropped the crowbar and returned the hug, a troubled expression on her face. They were both shaking. England was surprised when Russia turned his face towards him, smiling, but with tears running down his face.

"She's OK!" he exclaimed happily. "You're OK, Belarus! You haven't been shot!"

She shook her head in reply, fighting back her own tears, but constantly swallowing and sniffing in order to suppress them. England glanced down at America, lying on the floor and then back at the two siblings. That was when he noticed someone walking towards them from further down the corridor.

England narrowed his eyes. "Latvia?"

The boy shifted awkwardly from foot to foot as Belarus and Russia turned their attention to him.

"Latvia?" Russia looked surprised. "Where have you been?"

"I've been around, Mr Russia," he still looked very uncomfortable.

"Is something the matter?" England asked. "Did you encounter the attacker?"

Latvia sighed. "I have some explaining to do."

"Explaining?" Russia repeated hollowly.

"First of all, I want you three to know that I'm in on it," Latvia fretted. "I've known about the attacks as well as all the others."

"Wait, just a minute, wait, hold on..." Russia murmured quickly. " _You_?"

Latvia shook with fear. "Yes, and I really can explain to you what happened. You just have to listen, Mr Russia!"

"I'm listening, da?" he replied coolly.

"It all started with that Italy guy, as we all know," Latvia said with uncertainty. "Well, he went to the bathroom and I happened to be passing by at the time when I met with my friend, the one who thought of this in the first place. Yes, I just want to clarify that this was  _never my idea_ , OK, Mr Russia?"

Russia nodded, with what appeared to be an understanding smile spreading across his face. That only seemed to terrify Latvia all the more.

"He said we should jump Italy as soon as he left the bathroom," Latvia winced. "We did so, because it was Halloween, and he fainted. My friend became wary, and didn't want to be scolded for revealing a collapsed Italy, so said we needed to hide him. At first, I protested, but then I relented, because I'm weak, and I said we should bring him to the storage room beneath the basement, the one connected to the cellar, because there was no chance of anyone finding him there. We looked after him and made sure he had water, and my friend provided him with company when he needed it."

"I don't know why we kept him at all!" Latvia panicked. "We should've just let him go, but then my friend said this was the perfect opportunity to execute the plan he'd had in mind. It's nothing sinister, I swear! Just a Halloween prank!" Anyway, he went off up through the storage way, whereas I managed to squeeze myself into the dumbwaiter and lever myself all the way to the top. The next time I brought Italy water, Lithuania was there. My friend said it was all going to plan, but I had to wonder exactly what would be the outcome of this..."

"I continued to act normal, or at least pretend to do so," Latvia frowned. "But my friend wanted to mess with your minds some more. He said if we left out particular people, then it would be nice and funny to see them work together to find out what was happening. He followed England and America upstairs and somehow framed Belarus for taking France, if that's how it can be described. Next thing I knew, we suddenly had more people in the storage room, and that was when I began to feel uneasy."

"However, that was also when my own crimes began to weigh against me," Latvia swallowed. "So far, I had been a distant accomplice, only really contributing to Italy's capture. However, he came to me as I was in the room after Estonia had gone to sleep. He fretted Estonia was on to him, and that he may have heard him go into the library to hide. However, he was positive that he hadn't been seen and wanted me to split up Germany and China. That was easy, because Mr Germany wanted to go to the toilet. Miss Ukraine left at some point and I suppose that's the time when my friend got Mr China."

"For a moment, I thought he had taken both Mr China  _and_ Miss Ukraine, but I was tied down because Mr Germany didn't want me out of his sight for fear that I would be attacked," Latvia looked at his feet, guilty. "He insisted we stick together. The question is, how did little Latvia take down Mr Germany? I-I... feel really bad, because he was so nice to me, but I actually found one of Mr Russia's faucet things and used that. We'd already gone so far and I felt there was nothing else I could do. The more Mr Germany looked, the closer he would be to discovering the truth about  _me_. I was scared and took the necessary action."

"Well, by then, I was both an accomplice and a criminal, so I guess I stopped caring so much," he admitted. "I took Mr Germany down to the storage room and my friend was a little impressed, since he thought Germany would be the hardest to take down. I feel like such a scumbag, but it's all about earning trust... Estonia wasn't too hard to take. He was asleep by the time we arrived at his room and my friend decided to shove a bag over his head and bring him down the basement way, since he would never fit down the dumbwaiter. We gagged him. I'm sure he was really distressed, but the two of us were too afraid to stop what we had put into motion. Technically, the plan was still functioning well."

"Miss Ukraine was probably the easiest to take along," Latvia bit his lip. "Please don't look at me like that, Mr Russia. We didn't harm her! We actually just put some face masks on and asked her to come with us in our best America accents and she did. We also told her to be quiet and I guess she was too afraid not to be. Then, there were you four. My friend was sure that England and America would never split up, so he wanted to actually target Mr Russia next. I plain out refused. Admittedly, Miss Ukraine had put me off the plan. Although she wasn't harmed, she was very distressed. Also, I would never attack Mr Russia if I wanted to continue living, possibly because he would break my spin and tear out my neck bone- but only because he doesn't want me to turn into a thug, living on the streets."

He gave a nervous laugh and Russia nodded, still smiling. England had begun to believe the smile was less understanding, but more creepy and possibly borderline psychopathic.

"Miss Belarus was also out of the question," Latvia said. "I told him I wanted out, that we should end this, let everyone go, and just tell them all what was happening. It was a prank that spiralled way out of control. He went up, whereas I stayed down. I was too afraid to go up. I don't know what happened up there, but when he returned, he was freaking out. He said I was right and that this needed to end. When we both climbed through the dumbwaiter, we heard gunshots, and that's when I definitely knew we had to end this."

"I was too scared to face the guy with the gun, until now," Latvia looked unsure. "We didn't think America would crack, but he did and he really  _did_ crack. My friend was way too scared, but I knew that if I didn't come soon, the madness would continue. It was like a wild goose chase. I was trying to find you two, Mr Russia and Mr England, because you two would be rational, rather than trying to shoot at me; especially you, Mr England. Not that you're not  _rational_ , Mr Russia. The English are just  _particularly_ rational, as in, rationality is written into their genes. You get what I'm saying?"

Russia waved a dismissive hand.

"Anyway, it was hard, because you two were constantly moving around the house and a lot of the time, I just couldn't track either of you," he was trembling at this point. "I know I came too late, but the gunshots alerted me to your presence, and when I got here, America was knocked out and you three are actually OK, which is really good, because I didn't want to be the cause of murder. I'm really, very sorry-"

"Why don't you come give Mr Russia a hug and he'll tell you it'll be  _all fine_?" Russia started approaching the boy, who shook his head rapidly and took a step back.

"Wait!" England interjected. "Who is this friend of yours?"

"I think  _I_ can answer that question," someone replied, stepping out from around the corner. "I've just finished explaining to everyone what happened to them, and I thought it was about time I showed myself..."

" _Sealand_?" England stared in horror.

"I didn't mean for anyone to get hurt!" Sealand stared at the ground, tears in his eyes. "I actually just wanted to scare  _you_ , jerk England, because we're brothers and everything, but also because it's Halloween. I thought if I executed a really elaborate and somewhat clever plan, then all the countries would  _have_ to acknowledge me as a nation..."

"So, you took people  _hostage_?" Englan's brows furrowed.

"Well, that wasn't actually the plan," Sealand frowned. "The plan was to scare Italy and actually have him collaborate with us.  _That_ was the idea: give everyone a scare and then have them work with us. However, he fainted and I panicked, so Latvia suggested a place where we could bring him. Once we got down there, I thought it would be fun to bring everyone there, and they's all see each other and not worry. However, when Italy came to, he tried to run from us in some kind of blind panic, so we had to bind him up and everything."

Sealand glanced up at them all and sniffed. "I really thought it would be quite fun and I figured that, in a way, Russia was Latvia's version of a big brother. The idea was to leave you two for last, and then surprise you, and it would all be fun and games. I could never have pulled this through without Latvia, really. He was the one who suggested to Russia that he should throw a Halloween party, especially after I told him my idea."

"Ah, yes, I recall you were talking to me a lot when I was planning it," Russia's smile became noticeably forced. "I didn't realise you were so manipulative, Latvia..."

Latvia's eyes widened and he sent Sealand a slight glare. England wondered how much more information Latvia had twisted, but from the threatening way Russia was standing, England decided not to press for that information. His target was Sealand.

"I never would have guessed America would use a gun against you guys," Sealand looked sad. "But I guess he watches too many horror films and there's sometimes someone who goes mad just to add to the psychological horror, so that could be where he got  _that_ from..."

"Oh, I thought he just had a fever," Russia looked down at America with mild disgust. "Maybe he didn't after all?"

"But I don't understand," England said. "How did you even get here? Russia's house is one of the most well defended I know and you definitely weren't on my plane."

"Oh, well, that was quite easy, considering the circumstances," Sealand looked surprised. "I don't want to offend Russia in any way, but-"

"Allow  _me_ to explain,"  _another_ person wandered out. "It was a three man team, England. I brought him on my plane, because I liked his plan."

"You?" England gaped. " _You're_ behind this?"

"I will tell you everything," France answered as he approached.


	20. Chapter 20

**"It all started out when Sealand came to me looking for an efficient way to get you and the others to notice him,"** France explained. "I told him it was Halloween soon, and that he could use that as an excuse. The next day, he came with this plan of his and I was delighted. Anything to make Angleterre uncomfortable, I thought at the time, and it was also a way to find amusement from this whole thing. I told him to call Latvia and set this plan in Russia's house, because I knew it would be more interesting if the host was someone nobody really liked or trusted..."

Russia glowered at him, but France simply shrugged.

"Well, if you're going to act the way you do, don't be so surprised," France warned. "No matter; Latvia followed Sealand's instructions as he usually does. Once that was put into motion, it was all about getting you to go. Sealand was in my plane during the meeting we had at your house, England. I knew that you and America would be anxious about this whole event, and that you've have some kind of meeting. If I acted openly against it, I didn't look suspicious, but I also wanted you to generally agree to go. That's where Italy came in. He would naturally just accept the party invitation and, out of pity, you'd all go along with him. I even suggested it and, seeing as I was on a roll, it worked out fine."

"Getting Sealand into Russia's house was the hardest part," France admitted. "Smuggling a twelve year old boy wasn't as easy as  _he_ seemed to believe, but that's where Latvia came in. I flew my plane off in the distance, even though I was sure I could land with you guys. That gave Sealand and I enough time to prepare. I acted lost, with Sealand watching me from the shadows. Lithuania came to collect me, and that was how Sealand identified where the house was. As we all know, the Baltics are usually on door duty. When the time was right, Latvia let his friend in the house and told him to go hide."

"When Italy disappeared, I knew the plan had been set into motion," France nodded, almost smug. "I had told them to stick together during the attacks which they seemed to do fine, because Sealand already told me how they managed to get Lithuania."

Russia glanced at Latvia once more, who shifted awkwardly from foot to foot and refused to meet his gaze. England wondered if this was where Latvia's lies were revealed.

"When we split up, that was fantastic," France gleamed. "I knew that two young boys would never be able to take down older, more powerful nations. When I was with you, England, as well as America, I noticed them tailing us, but only because I was looking for them. I started purposely going ahead and indicated I wanted to be taken. It was better if I was in the shadows as well. You two stayed in Belarus' room, whereas I went into Ukraine's, where I  _pretended_ to be mauled to death, knowing full well that you'd both be too terrified to leave the room. That gave all three of us a chance to get away."

"By then, I suppose that's when we started to split up," France said. "Latvia ended up serving Ukraine for a while, I had to pretend I was tied up in the room, even though I was the only one not blindfolded, leaving Sealand as the only one capable of moving around freely. I told him to target China or Japan, because they were the smallest in build, and therefore easiest to take. Sealand returned with China gagged and blindfolded, much to my delight."

"I'll admit, I was very surprised when Latvia dragged  _Germany_ into the little room," France raised both eyebrows. "It turns out China was incapable of using any martial arts techniques because Latvia had spiked their tea. I was surprised at first, but it turns out he'd found some sleeping medication in the kitchen medicine cabinet and had given them a slosh each. He'd added a lot of sugar to mask the taste, and had placed the concoction at the bottom of Germany and China's mugs. That meant Ukraine wasn't affected, whereas China and Germany were. Drowsy and not nearly as fast as he could've bee, I don't doubt Latvia made Germany an easy take."

All eyes were on Latvia, including Sealand.

"You  _drugged_ them?" Sealand squawked.

"I-I... I... How else was I..." Latvia swallowed, unable to defend himself.

France shrugged, choosing to ignore the conflict. "He only told me because he worried they'd been overdosed. I said no. They'd be fine, because the medication he used was only for mild sleeping issues. Germany and China wouldn't even notice themselves getting slower and more relaxed. I'm sure the boys told you about how they got Estonia and Ukraine? My major role was to sit with the hostages and pretend to be blindfolded. I spoke, and they couldn't see that I wasn't bound up like they were. Latvia also did that with Germany, to pretend. It was all very clever, really."

"I intended to get Belarus next," France said. "I'm sorry, but I felt it would be better to get the girls aside from what was happening, and Ukraine would probably feel better to have her sister with her. I'm not  _immoral_. That's when the boys told me America had gone on a rampage. I told them we needed to instantly go up, but neither was enthusiastic and I don't blame them for that. I tried to go, but Sealand begged me not to. I insisted, and Latvia said the time wasn't right, that I would get shot. However, I needed to tell America the truth and get him to calm down."

"The boys had different ideas," France admitted. "They left and Latvia locked the door. I was stuck in, but I was more concerned for them, as they were heading towards towards the gunfire. Everything seemed to sort itself out, though, and I think they were probably right. At the sight of America with a gun, I would've turned tail and fled..."

"But  _why_ , France?" England demanded. "Why would you do this in the first place, and why would you let it go so far?"

France thought for a moment. "I suppose I wanted to scare you, England. You were my main target and, since you react so badly to these things, it would be hilarious to have you in a situation like that, but only with Russia and America, who hate one another. As to why I'd go so far? Because everyone who was taken to that room is a grown, mature adult. Nobody was harmed until America started shooting bullets. Did you know some people can pay to be kidnapped just for the thrill of it? They take you unexpectedly, without telling you how or when. This was nothing compared to something like that! However, America was not in on the plans."

"OK, so you chose my house because you knew people would accuse me?" Russia asked flatly. "You smuggled a child across the Russian border just to have a laugh at England? You manipulated two children only for the purpose of playing this out? And you're the one saying  _I'm_ the bad one?"

France laughed nervously. "I understand this hasn't been taken as well as I'd have liked, but surely it can become something we can all put behind us?"

"What about Japan?" England asked. "Was he involved? Because he hasn't been mentioned."

"Oh, true," Russia frowned. "All three of you didn't mention Japan once."

"Oh, sugar!" Sealand's eyes widened. "I forgot I locked him in the meat hangar!"

"You  _what_?" Latvia looked at him. "That place is below freezing temperatures as the outside weather is used to preserve the meat! Although it hasn't been used in many years, the conditions are still the same."

"I remember sneaking after him in that little passage and just... pushing him in," Sealand panicked. "I was going to return there later, but I forgot about him entirely.

"We need to get him out!" France looked worried. "What if he froze to death?"

"I don't want to be a murderer," Sealand burst into tears.

"Well, this has been a hoot and a half," England rolled eyes. "Seeing as your terrible plan has failed miserably, Frog, how about Latvia goes to retrieve Japan, and the rest of us unite with the others? Where are they?"

"The lounge where Ukraine watches TV," France replied sullenly.

As a group, they all travelled together. England and France dragged America along behind them. Belarus helped Russia walk. At the front were Sealand and Latvia, walking along with their heads bowed in shame. Sealand was trying not to cry anymore and Latvia had a fearful expression in his eyes. England was just glad this was over, yet he remained unwilling to grace France with his gaze.

When they passed the kitchen corridor, Latvia branched off to rescue Japan, whereas the rest of them entered the lounge where everyone was gathered. All heads turned, their expressions icy and unfriendly. Sealand, unable to take anymore, started sobbing again.

"Oh, this is  _sad_ ," Ukraine frowned. "He's only a little boy and once things were out of control, he couldn't handle them!"

She pulled Sealand into her arms, bubbling over herself with tears. England frowned and sidestepped them, where he and France laid America across the sofa.

"What happened to you guys?" China asked, looking at England, who was still geared up; America, who was completely out of it; and Russia, who looked like he'd walked away in the middle of a gang fight.

"We've been through a lot tonight," England explained, and Russia finally collapsed, as if that was answer enough.

"He's dead!" Sealand wailed. "This is all my fault! I'm a-"

"He's not dead!" Belarus growled, checking his pulse. "My poor brother has just been through too much."

"Mr Russia!" Lithuania crouched beside him. "How did this happen to him?"

"America's little brain couldn't handle the situation and he started shooting at us," England folded his arms. "You know what I want? A bloody apology. I can't  _believe_ the three of you took things as far as you did."

Sealand grabbed his trouser leg. "I'm so sorry, England. It'll  _never_ happen again! I promise- no, I  _swear_!"

England awkwardly patted him and pushed him gently away. "Look, I understand you didn't intend this to happen, but I honestly think you should have considered the consequences of taking Italy in the first place. You've both endangered and frightened a lot of people tonight."

He glared at France and waited.

After a moment, France relented and sighed. "OK,  _fine_. I'm very sorry as to what has happened."

"I should think so," Germany grumbled, folding his arms. "Now, where is Latvia? I want an explanation."

"I'm here, Mr Germany," Latvia said, guiding a shuddering Japan into the room.

His skin was pale from the cold and Latvia was quick to provide him with a blanket. He sat him on the sofa, wedged in between Italy and Germany, where he continued to shiver, but said nothing at all.

"Considering it's already been said, I drugged your tea and attacked you from behind," Latvia winced. "I'm so sorry."

"I think we'll need to have some kind of conference for this," Germany sighed. "I understand that this was all meant to be light hearted, but you all took things way too far. I'm thinking perhaps a community service type punishment opposed to payment, because this was all an accidental situation."

"Wow, thank you for being so understanding, Mr Germany," Latvia looked surprised.

"I was hoping for payment," China scowled. "But I'll just assume straight off the bat that no one else will be agreeing with me."

A silence followed that confirmed his theory, and he looked away scornfully.

"How about we organise everything tomorrow?" Estonia suggested. "Not many people are exactly fit to discuss international business right now and we've all missed out on valuable sleep."

There was a general murmured consensus. Ukraine organised a room for everyone and England was just relieved to put his head down on a pillow. He closed his eyes and finally drifted off into the world of sleep.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly feel like I've been on such a huge journey over the past three years. Looking back on this, something that I wrote a long time ago, I can only say that I'm so proud of how far I've come in my writing. This was the place I started and I've developed so much more since then, no matter how nostalgic it may be to read through this.
> 
> Whilst I have been writing largely new content for BNHA, I still have so many ideas for the Hetalia fandom with my writing. I'm very keen to continue with my two other fics, _Asylum_ and _Der Widerstand_. Beyond that, though, there are some very big ideas I have that I want to put into fruition that I've had stored in my head for quite some time. This is where it began but I hope that many of you will follow me on my journey until I've dry out of ideas.
> 
> Thank you for reading Scaretalia. It was a journey three years ago, and it still feels like a journey now. I still have more fics to transfer here, and I hope you've enjoyed this one enough to check out more of what I've written.

**England woke up at a record ten thirty that morning.** He was safe and sound. Light streamed in through the window. The atmosphere of Russia's house had changed from a creepy horror film setting, to one of Christmas and festivity, with snow falling delicately outside. He rolled out of bed and made himself presentable for the outside world. He walked out of the room and stood in the hallway, where he heard voices further down the hallway. He walked along and saw it was Russia's room.

They had a lot of discussing to do, but a doctor had arrived late that night to look at Russia's accumulated wounds. England hadn't been awake to see that, but he'd been told beforehand by Germany that that's what had been planned. The voices sounded like America and Russia.

He brought a hand up to the door and knocked gently.

"Hello?" Russia called.

England pushed open the door and walked a little inside. Russia was still in bed and America sat beside him on a chair he'd pulled up beside the bed.

"Hey," America smiled and England nodded towards him.

He glanced around the room and found another chair which he took and pulled beside America's. Sitting down, the three of them contemplated for a moment.

"Russia was telling me what I'd been like," America awkwardly laughed. "He said he thought I had a fever."

"You did look like a madman," England replied.

"If I got fevers that easily, I'd be doomed," America shrugged. "Healthcare isn't free..."

"What was the verdict?" England asked Russia.

"I was passing in and out of consciousness whilst they were diagnosing me," Russia smiled ruefully. "But I did catch that my arm was fractured, I'd lost a lot of blood from the knife wound, as well as the wound on my arm and hand and, when we pulled the bullet out, I lost even more blood. I also fractured my hip when I jumped from the building, two ribs were broken when you landed on me with the ladder, and the nerves in my little finger have been temporarily severed from the skimming gunshot of America's. Fortunately, I'm a nation. I'll heal and be fine."

England glanced at America, who had a bandage around his head.

"Mildly concussed, but I wanted to see if this dude had made it," he laughed. "I can't believe it was Sealand this whole time. And there I was, telling you to go easy on the little guy."

"It was  _France_ pulling the strings," England muttered.

"I can assure you that Latvia won't be doing anything for a while," Russia chuckled.

"But, hey, I just wanted to clarify that there's no beef between us?" America looked at him.

"Oh, there is," Russia nodded seriously. "I might currently be one step down from a full body cast, but let's both of us remember that you were the one accusing me of this from the very beginning to the end, as well as smuggling a gun into my house, only to then use it against me. Ought I also to remind you that you weren't psychotic when you brought the gun into my house?"

America's face fell and he grimaced. "Right."

The day progressed slowly at first, but then the meetings began, held in Russia's room as he didn't want to be left out. The only person unable to attend was Japan and that was because, according to China, he was suffering from moderate hypothermia from the low temperatures of the meat hangar. France, Sealand and Latvia were present, and the next three days were spent organising what was to happen to the offenders.

Sealand willingly took responsibility and was forced into service towards the countries to make them more accepting. He would take two weeks with each of his victims as repayment. That gave him a total of twenty weeks worth of service. He was prohibited from organising contact with Latvia for the next month or so.

Latvia's punishment was something Russia insisted on exacting and, although he wouldn't explain what he intended to do, he was insistent and didn't want Latvia straying far from home, anyway. He said something along the lines of: "Latvia understands his errors, but at least the magical stick can settle our dispute!" He was put on a two month restraining order from both Germany and China and was also prohibited from handling medicine and drugs. Like Sealand, he would face a month of not speaking with the former.

France? France would be at the will and mercy of all other nations he had offended for a full thirty weeks. He would also be the one paying for Russia's medical bill, due to the fact that it was  _his_ idea to orchestrate this in Russia's house. He was placed on restricted restraining order from Sealand and Latvia for the next two months.

Lithuania would be spending the next few months with Russia, attending to him and making sure he was alright. He also found it very difficult to be near Latvia, and found friendly conversation wasn't the first thing on his mind whenever the two happened to chance upon one another. Although he knew it was unfair to seemingly accuse Latvia of everything, he was still cool about the thought of Latvia being the one to attack him and drag him into the storage room, a place which he chose to avoid.

Estonia took it a little more responsibly. Whilst his attitude towards Latvia was not what one could call friendly, he did the sensible thing and put the past aside, still on speaking terms. He did, however, catch up on all his missed and most beloved sleep. He perhaps took advantage of this since Russia wasn't in the position to say or do anything against it.

Ukraine easily relaxed once the danger was gone and instantly forgave Latvia, despite everything he had done. On the fourth day of his punishment, she ended up comforting Latvia, who felt he needed to watch his back, providing him with a fresh batch of tarts she had made.

Belarus was much less forgiving and, although she sought out Latvia, he did his best to avoid her as much as possible, especially after he had seen what she did to America with the crowbar. The only good thing that came out of this was that Russia, who was incapable of being able to move about the house, was subject to Belarus' company. She was very happy to tell him that Latvia would be constructing her a new vase  _and_ a new photo frame.

Italy returned home to a very surprised Romano, who half listened to his story, but didn't care all that much. Italy took it as a low blow and chose to stay with Germany for the next few weeks or so, suddenly unable to take anything from his brother due to the "stress and fear of being held in the basement of a sociopath's servant and a bad cook's little brother". He had also added the attempts to feed him English food and the trauma such torture would bring upon him for the rest of his life.

Germany accepted Italy staying with him and had better company from Austria, who enjoyed bossing Sealand around at his every whim and bidding when the boy was present. It made Germany wonder whether Austria was abusing his position within the household, but there was little he could do, as he had been the one who had helped construct the terms Sealand had to abide to. Fortunately for Germany, the tea had no impact on his health and the blow to his head had not been enough to have caused considerable or worrisome damage.

The final member of the Axis Powers was not so lucky. Japan almost reached a severe stage of hypothermia, to the point where he stopped feeling the cold and became delirious. As a result, China deemed him unhealthy to travel and asked Russia to allow them to stay until Japan seemed well enough to return home. Russia allowed that and poor Japan spent his days bedridden, with China as his only company. When he finally did heal, he was strained yet polite, but mostly grateful to head home.

China was glad to have spent some quality time with Japan, even though most of his contributions to the conversation had been delirious. On the other hand, he didn't have to return home, either, and have South Korea pester him about what had happened. He didn't suffer from the sleeping tablets, either, but made sure to strictly avoid Latvia during his prolonged stay at Russia's house. Upon returning home, he was bombarded with questions, but his answer was: "It was so traumatic, aru. I can never speak of it".

America was a little bit luckier than Japan. Although he had suffered a mild concussion and couldn't drive his own place, the fact he was walking around indicated he could travel. There was also the fact that he didn't want to stay in Russia's house any longer, especially as the other was still bitter about him having brought a gun into his house. As a result, Canada arrived with some of his air force, where he gave America a lift back home, as well as brought America's plane back with them. He was glad to have been included, no matter how briefly, and although he was barely noticed when he came for America, it was difficult for America to not acknowledge his presence when they were on their way home. America sent a letter of apology to Russia, as well as a new faucet pipe. The letter was somewhat half-hearted, now that America wasn't face to face with Russia.

When he received the aforementioned letter, Russia burnt it after reading it, smiling and watching the fire turn it to a crisp. However, he treasured his new, beloved faucet and had Latvia smelt the new one down to repair the old one. Despite his injuries, Russia recovered extremely quickly. "I'm Russian" and "It was the vodka I have as a medical remedy three times a day" were his excuses for the sudden vibrance in his health. Once he was up and moving again, he made sure to distance himself a lot from Belarus. Although he attempted to acquire the photo album, she banned him from entering her room for a period of time and she took it with her when she next returned to her own home. Although that night had seen him enter there the most ever, Russia got Latvia to rebuild his entire library, as well as organise general repairs all over the house. Once fully recovered, he spent the next few days comfort knitting and wondering whether his friendship with England was permanent or temporary.

England spoke little to Sealand, as usual, intending to send the message that his younger brother was still not considered a nation. He decided to enter a rock climbing course, having mildly enjoyed his escapade along the side of Russia's house, but memories of falling soon returned to him during the first week and he never showed up again. To comfort himself, he baked a huge plate of scones and ordered France to eat them with him, much to the horror of France. It was safe to say that, when Sealand was at his service, England was not shy to get his brother to do what he wanted. It was one day when he realised that Russia might expect to receive a letter, as they was allegedly 'friends'. However, England was in the mood to cut that friendship before it budded, especially when he dwelt on what would've happened if Latvia had confessed without him being present. Luckily, Russia didn't seem to make an effort either, and England put that down to being forgetful and was immensely grateful for it. He also decided he would never celebrate Halloween ever again.

* * *

Some months passed after Halloween, rolling onwards to the next year. Latvia found himself in the kitchen, relieved that the nightmare, along with his restrictions, were over. Lithuania and Estonia had gone out to deal with cars, Ukraine and Belarus had long returned home by now, and Russia was out, claiming to be busy doing something.

"Hey, Latvia."

He turned and saw Russia standing in the doorway.

"O-oh," he froze. "H-hello, M-Mr Russia. I thought you'd gone out?"

"That's what I told you and the other two," Russia smiled. "I wanted it to be just us today, so we could spend some  _quality_ time together. Do you remember that Halloween night all those weeks ago?"

"Y-yes?"

"I think it's about time we spoke about what happened," Russia beamed, taking out the new faucet pipe Latvia had constructed for him. "Let's settle the argument."

Latvia decided that that was his cue to start running, or die slowly.


End file.
